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Please 

handle  this  volume 

with  care. 

The  University  of  Connecticul 
libraries,  Storrs 


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"  Dojs't    catch    di.^   chile    again." 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S  CHARGE. 


A  STOET  FOE  BOYS. 


BY 


HORATIO  ALGER,  Jr., 

AUTHOR  OF  "  BAGGED  DICK  SERIES.'* 


THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO., 

PHILADELPHIA, 
CHICAGO,  TORONTO. 


f 


?. 


FAMOUS  ALGER  BOOKS. 


RAGGED  DICK  SERIES.  By  Hokatio  Algee,  Jr.  6  vols.  12mo.  Cloth. 
Ragged  Dick.  Rough  and  Ready. 

Fame  and  Fortune.  Ben  the  Luggage  Boy. 

Mark  the  Match  Boy.  Rufus  and  Rose. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES,  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.    4  vols.    12mOi 
Cloth.    First  Series. 
Tattered  Tom.  Phil  the  Fiddler. 

Paul  the  Peddler.  Slow  and  Sure. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES.    4  vols.    12mo.    Cloth.    Second  Series. 
Julius.  Sam's  Chance. 

The  Young  Outlaw.  The  Telegraph  Boy, 

CAMPAIGN  SERIES.    By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.    8  vols. 

Frank's  Campaign.  Charlie  Codman's  Cruise. 

Paul  Prescott's  Charge. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES.     By  HoRATio  Alger,  Jr.  4  vols.  12ino. 
Cloth.    First  Series. 

Luck  and  Pluck.  Strong  and  Steady. 

Sink  or  Swim.  Strive  and  Succeed. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES.   4  vols.    12mo.   Cloth.   Second  Series. 
Try  and  Trust.  Risen  from  the  Ranks. 

Bound  to  Rise.  Herbert  Carter's  Legacy. 

BRAVE  AND  BOLD  SERIES.    By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.   4  vols.   12iiio. 
Cloth. 

Brave  and  Bold.  Shifting  for  Himself, 

Jack's  Ward.  Wait  and  Hope. 

PACIFIC  SERIES.    By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.    4  vols.    12ino. 
The  Young  Adventurer.  The  Young  Explobebs. 

The  Young  Miner.  Ben's  Nugget. 

ATLANTIC  SERIES.    By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.    4  vols. 

The  Young  Circus  Rider.  Hector's  Inheritance. 

Do  AND  Dare.  Helping  Himself. 

WAY  TO  SUCCESS  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  4  vols.  12ma 
Cloth. 
Bob  Burton.  Luke  Walton. 

The  Store  Boy.  Struggling  Upward. 

NEW  WORLD  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  3  vols.  12mo.  Cloth. 
Digging  for  GtOld.      Facing  the  World.       In  a  New  World. 
Other  Volumes  in  Preparation, 

CopyRiGHT  BY  A.  K.  Loeing,  1865. 


Coptbiqht  by  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.,  1893. 


So  t})t  Bogs 

WHOSE    JSIEMORY   GOES    BACK  WITH    ME 

TO  THE  BOARDING  SCHOOL 
AT    POTOWOME, 

Zfiis  Folutne  is  afcctfonatels  IBetiicaUli 

8T 

THE  AUTHOB. 


PREFACE. 


"Path  Pkescott's  Charge"  is  presented  to  the 
public  as  the  second  volume  of  the  Campaign  Series. 
Though  wholly  unlike  the  first  volume,  it  is  written 
in  furtherance  of  the  same  main  idea,  that  every 
boy*s  life  is  a  campaign,  more  or  less  difficult,  in 
which  success  depends  upon  integrity  and  a  stead- 
fast adherence  to  duty. 

How  Paul  Prescott  gained  strength  by  battling 
with  adverse  circumstances,  and,  under  all  discour- 
agements, kept  steadily  before  him  the  charge  which 
he  received  trom  his  dying  father,  is  fully  told ;  and 


Vm  PREFACE. 


the  author  will  be  glad  if  the  record  shall  prove  ao 
incentive  and  an  encouragement  to  those  boys  who 
may  have  a  similar  campaign  before  them. 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S  CHARGE. 


I. 

SQUIRE  NEWCOJME. 


'*  Hannah  ! " 

The  speaker  was  a  tall,  pompous-looking  man,  whose  age 
appeared  to  verge  close  upon  fifty.  He  was  sitting  bolt  up- 
right in  a  high-backed  chair,  and  looked  as  if  it  would  be  quite 
impossible  to  deviate  from  his  position  of  unbending  rigidity. 

Squire  Benjamin  Newcome,  as  he  was  called,  in  the  right  of 
his  position  as  Justice  of  the  Peace,  Chairman  of  the  Select- 
men, and  wealthiest  resident  of  Wrenville,  was  a  man  of  rule 
and  measure.  He  was  measured  in  his  walk,  measured  in  his 
utterance,  and  measured  in  all  his  transactions.  He  might  be 
called  a  dignified  machine.  He  had  a  very  exalted  conception 
of  his  own  position,  and  the  respect  which  he  felt  to  be  his  due, 
not  only  from  his  own  household,  but  from  all  who  approached 
him.  If  the  President  of  the  United  States  had  called  upon 
him,  Squire  Newcome  would  very  probably  have  felt  that  he 
hunself  was  the  party  who  conferred  distinction,  and  not  re- 
ceived it. 

Squire  Newcome  was  a  widower.  His  wife,  who  was  as  dif- 
ferent from  himself  as  could  well  be  conceived,  did  not  live 
long  after  marriage.  She  was  chilled  to  death,  as  it  was 
thought,  by  the  dignified  iceberg  of  whose  establishment  she 
had  become  a  part.     She  had  left,  liowi.*r«'r,  a  child,  who  had 


10  PAUL    PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE. 

now  grown  to  be  a  boy  of  twelve.  This  boy  was  a  thorn  in  the 
side  of  his  father,  who  had  endeavored  in  vain  to  mould  him 
according  to  his  idea  of  propriety.  But  Ben  was  gifted  with 
a  spirit  of  fun,  sometimes  running  into  mischief,  which  was  con- 
stantly bursting  out  in  new  directions,  in  spite  of  his  father's 
numerous  and  rather  prosy  lectures. 

**  Han-nah !  "  again  called  Squire  Newcome,  separating  the 
two  syllables  by  a  pause  of  deliberation,  and  strongly  accenting 
the  last  syllable,  —  a  habit  of  his  with  all  proper  names. 

Hannah  was  the  Irish  servant  of  all  work,  who  was  just  then 
engaged  in  mixing  up  bread  in  the  room  adjoining,  which  was 
the  kitchen. 

Feeling  a  natural  reluctance  to  appear  before  her  employer 
with  her  hands  covered  with  dough,  she  hastily  washed  them. 
All  this,  however,  took  time,  and  before  she  responded  to  the 
first  summons,  the  second  '*  Han-nah ! "  delivered  with  a  little 
sharp  emphasis,  had  been  uttered. 

At  length  she  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  sitting-room. 

*' Han-nah!"  said  Squire  Newcome,  fixing  his  cold  gray 
eye  upon  her,  **  when  you  hear  my  voice  a  calling  you,  it  is 
your  duty  to  answer  the  summons  immejiately.'''' 

I  have  endeavored  to  represent  the  Squire's  pronunciation 
of  the  last  word. 

"  So  I  would  have  come  immejously,''''  said  Hannah,  display- 
ing a  most  reprehensible  ignorance,  *'  but  me  hands  were  all 
covered  with  Hour." 

*'  That  makes  no  difference,"  Interrupted  the  Squire.  **  Flour 
is  an  accidental  circumstance." 

"What's  that?"  thought  Hannah,  opening  her  eyes  in 
amazement. 

'*  And  should  not  be  allowed  to  interpose  an  obstacle  to  an 
immejiate  answer  to  my  summons." 

**  Sir,"  said  Hannah,  who  guessed  at  the  meaning  though 
she  did  not  understand  the  words,  *';you  wouldn't  have  me 
dirtv  the  door-handle  with  me  doughy  hands  ?  " 


PAUL    PRESCOTT's   CHARGE.  11 

**  That  could  easily  be  remedied  by  ablution." 

*•  There  aint  any  ablution  in  the  house,"  said  the  mystified 
Hannah. 

*•  I  mean,"  Squire  Newcome  condescended  to  explain,  ''the 
application  of  water  —  in  short,  washing." 

*'  Shure,"  said  Hannah,  as  light  broke  in  upon  her  mind,  **  1 
never  knew  that  was  what  they  called  it  before." 

*•  Is  Ben-ja-min  at  home  ?  " 

'*  Yes,  sir.  He  was  out  playin'  in  the  yard  a  minute  ago. 
I  guess  you  can  see  him  from  the  winder." 

So  saying  she  stepped  forward,  and  looking  out,  all  at  once 
gave  a  shrill  scream,  and  rushed  from  the  room,  leaving  her 
employer  in  his  bolt-upright  attitude  gazing  after  her  with  as 
much  astonishment  as  he  was  capable  of. 

The  cause  of  her  sudden  exit  was  revealed  on  looking  out 
of  the  window. 

Master  Benjamin,  or  Ben,  as  he  was  called  everywhere  ex- 
cept in  his  own  family,  had  got  possession  of  the  black  kitten, 
and  appeared  to  be  submerging  her  in  the  hogshead  of  rain- 
water. 

*♦  O,  you  wicked,  cruel  boy,  to  drown  poor  Kitty !  "  exclaimed 
the  indignant  Hannah,  rushing  into  the  yard  and  endeavoring 
to  snatch  her  feline  favorite  —  an  attempt  which  Ben  stoutly 
resisted. 

Doubtless  the  poor  kitten  would  have  fared  badly  between 
the  two,  had  not  the  window  opened,  and  the  deliberate  voice 
of  his  father  called  out  in  tones  which  Ben  saw  fit  to  heed. 

"What?" 

*•  Come  into  my  presence  immejiately,  and  learn  to  answer 
me  with  more  respect." 

Ben  came  in  looking  half  defiant. 

His  father,  whose  perpendicularity  made  him  look  like  a  sit- 
ting grenadier,  commenced  the  examination  thus  :  — 

*'  I  wish  you  to  inform  me  vhat  vou  was  a  doing  of  whea  I 
epoke  to  you." 


12  PAUL  ppwEScott's  charge. 

It  will  be  observed  that  the  Squire's  dignified  utterances 
were  sometimes  a  little  at  variance  with  the  rules  of  the  best 
modem  grammarians. 

*'  I  was  trying  to  prevent  Hannah  from  taking  the  kitten/' 
said  Ben. 

**  What  was  you  a  doing  of  before  Hannah  went  out  ?  " 

♦'  Playing  with  Kitty." 

**  Why  were  you  standing  near  the  hogshead,  Benjamin? " 

**Why,"  said  Ben,  ingenuously,  "the  hogshead  happened 
to  be  near  me  —  that  was  all." 

**  Were  you  not  trying  to  drown  the  kitten  ?  " 

**  O,  I  would  n't  drown  her  for  anything,"  said  Ben  with  an 
injured  expression,  mentally  adding,  **  short  of  a  three-cent 
piece." 

**  Then,  to  repeat  my  interrogatory,  what  was  you  a  doing 
of  with  the  kitten  in  the  hogshead  ?  " 

•*  I  was  teaching  her  to  swim,"  said  Ben,  looking  out  of  the 
corner  of  his  eye  at  his  father,  to  see  what  impression  this 
explanation  made  upon  him. 

*'  And  what  advantageous  result  do  you  think  would  be 
brought  about  by  teaching  of  the  kitten  to  swim,  Benjamin.'^" 
persisted  his  father. 

"Advantageous  result!"  repeated  Ben,  demurely,  pretend- 
ing not  to  understand. 

*♦  Certingly." 

**  What  does  that  mean  ?  " 

**Do  you  not  study  your  dictionary  at  school,  Benjamin?** 

**  Yes,  but  I  don't  like  it  much." 

*You  are  very  much  in  error.  You  will  never  learn  to 
«^loy  your  tongue  with  elegance  and  precision,  unless  you 
er.gage  in  this  beneficial  study." 

*'  I  can  use  my  tongue  well  enough,  without  studying  gram- 
mar," said  Ben.  He  proceeded  to  illustrate  the  truth  of  this 
assertion  by  twisting  his  tongue  about  in  a  comical  manner. 

•'  Tongue,"  exclaimed  his  father,  **  is  but  another  name  for 
language  — I  mean  your  native  language.'* 


PAUL    PEESCOTT's   CHARGE.  13 

"Oil!" 

Ben  was  about  to  leave  the  room  to  avoid  further  questions 
of  an  embarrassing  nature,  when  his  father  interrupted  his  exit 
by  saying  — 

**  Stay,  Benjamin,  do  not  withdraw  till  I  have  made  all  the 
inquiries  which  I  intend." 

The  boy  unwillingly  returned. 

**  You  have  not  answered  ray  question." 

**  I  've  forgotten  what  it  was." 

*•  What  good  would  it  do  ?  "  asked  the  Squire,  simplifying 
his  speech  to  reach  Ben's  comprehension,  **  what  good  would 
it  do  to  teach  the  kitten  to  swim  ?  " 

**0,  I  thought,"  said  Ben,  hesitating,  "that  some  time  or 
other  she  might  happen  to  fall  into  the  water,  and  might  not  be 
able  to  get  out  unless  she  knew  how." 

*'  I  think,"  said  his  father  with  an  unusual  display  of  sagacity, 
"that  she  will  be  in  much  greater  hazard  of  drowning  while 
learning  to  swim  under  your  direction  than  by  any  other  chance 
likely  to  befall  her." 

"Shouldn't  wonder,"  was  Ben's  mental  comment,  "  Pretty 
cute  for  you,  dad." 

Fortunately,  Ben  did  not  express  his  thoughts  aloud.  They 
would  have  implied  such  an  utter  lack  of  respect  that  the 
Squire  would  have  been  quite  overwhelmed  by  the  reflection 
that  his  impressive  manners  had  produced  no  greater  effect  on 
one  who  had  so  excellent  a  chance  of  being  impressed  by  them. 

"Benjamin,"  concluded  his  father,  "I  have  an  errand  for 
you  to  execute.  You  may  go  over  to  Mr.  Prescott's  and  see  if 
he  is  yet  living.  I  hear  that  he  is  a  lying  on  the  brink  of  the 
grave." 

An  expression  of  sadness  stole  over  the  usually  merry  face 
of  Ben,  as  he  started  on  his  errand. 

"  Poor  Paul ! "  he  thought,  "  what  will  he  do  when  his  father 
dies?  He's  such  a  capital  fellow,  too.  I  just  wish  I  had  a 
wagon  load  of  money,  I  do,  and  Pd  give  him  half     That 's  so !" 


n. 

PAUL    PRESCOTT'S   IJOME. 

We  will  precede  Ben  on  his  visit  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Pres^ 
cott. 

It  was  an  old  weather-beaten  house,  of  one  story,  about  half 
a  mile  distant  from  'Squire  Newcomers  residence.  The  Pres. 
cott  family  had  lived  here  for  five  years,  or  ever  since  they  had 
removed  to  Wrenville.  Until  within  a  year  they  had  lived 
comfortably,  when  two  blows  came  in  quick  succession.  The 
first  was  the  death  of  Mrs.  Prescott,  an  excellent  woman,  whose 
loss  was  deeply  felt  by  her  husband  and  son.  Soon  afterwards 
Mr.  Prescott,  a  carpenter  by  trade,  while  at  work  upon  the 
roof  of  a  high  building,  fell  off,  and  not  only  broke  his  leg 
badly,  but  suffered  some  internal  injury  of  a  still  more  serious 
nature.  He  had  not  been  able  to  do  a  stroke  of  work  since. 
After  some  months  it  became  evident  that  he  would  never  re- 
cover. A  year  had  now  passed.  During  this  time  his  ex- 
penses had  swallowed  up  the  small  amount  which  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  laying  up  previous  to  his  sickness.  It  was  clear  that 
at  his  death  there  would  be  nothing  left.  At  thirteen  years  of 
age  Paul  would  have  to  begin  the  world  without  a  penny. 

Mr.  Prescott  lay  upon  a  bed  in  a  small  bedroom  adjoining  the 
kitchen.  Paul,  a  thoughtful-looking  boy  sat  beside  it,  ready  to 
answer  his  call. 

There  had  been  silence  for  some  time,  when  Mr.  Prescott 
called  feebly  — 

"Paul!" 


PAUL    PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  15 

•*  I  am  here,  father,"  said  Paul. 

**  I  am  almost  gone,  Paul,  I  don't  think  I  shall  last  througl 
the  day." 

**  v),  father,"  said  Paul,  sorrowfully,  **  Don't  leave  me." 

**  That  is  the  only  grief  I  have  in  dying  —  I  must  leave  you 
to  struggle  for  yourself,  Paul.  I  shall  be  able  to  leave  you 
absolutely  nothing." 

**  Don't  think  of  that,  father.  I  am  young  and  strong — I 
can  earn  my  living  in  some  way." 

**  I  hoped  to  live  long  enough  to  give  you  an  education.  I 
wanted  you  to  have  a  fairer  start  in  the  world  than  I  had." 

*'  Never  mind,  father,"  said  Paul,  soothingly,  **  Don't  be  un- 
easy about  me.     God  will  provide  for  me." 

Again  there  was  a  silence,  broken  only  by  the  difficult  breath- 
ing of  the  sick  man. 

He  spoke  again. 

"  There  is  one  thing,  Paul,  that  I  want  to  tell  you  before  1 
die." 

Paul  drew  closer  to  the  bedside. 

**  It  is  something  which  has  troubled  me  as  I  lay  here.  I 
shall  feel  easier  for  speaking  of  it.  You  remember  that  we 
lived  at  Cedarville  before  we  came  here." 

♦*Yes,  father." 

*•  About  two  years  before  we  left  there,  a  promising  specu- 
lation was  brought  to  my  notice.  An  agent  of  a  Lake  Superioi 
mine  visited  our  village  and  represented  the  mine  In  so  favor- 
able a  light  that  many  of  my  neighbors  bought  shares,  fully  ex- 
pecting to  double  their  money  in  a  year.  Among  the  rest  I 
was  attacked  with  the  fever  of  speculation.  I  had  always  been 
obliged  to  work  hard  for  a  moderate  compensation,  and  had 
not  been  able  to  do  much  more  than  support  my  family.  This, 
it  seemed  to  me,  afforded  an  excellent  opportunity  of  laying  up 
a  little  something  which  might  render  me  secure  in  the  event  of 
a  sudden  attack  of  sickness.  I  had  but  about  two  hundred  dol- 
lars, however,  and  from  so  scanty  an  investment  I  could  not. 


IG  PAUL  peescott's  charge. 

of  course,  expect  a  large  return ;  accordingly  I  went  to  Squire 
Conant ;   you  remember  him,  Paul  ?  " 

*•  Yes,  father." 

**  I  went  to  him  and  asked  a  loan  of  five  hundred  dollars. 
After  some  hesitation  he  agreed  to  lend  it  to  me.  He  was  fond 
of  his  money  and  not  much  given  to  lending,  but  it  so  happened 
that  he  had  invested  in  the  same  speculation,  and  had  a  high 
opinion  of  it,  so  he  felt  pretty  safe  in  advancing  me  the  money 
Well,  this  loan  gave  me  seven  hundred  dollars,  with  which  I  pur- 
chased seven  shares  in  the  Lake  Superior  Grand  Combination 
IVlining  Company.  For  some  months  afterwards,  I  felt  like  a 
rich  man.  I  carefully  put  away  my  certificate  of  stock,  look- 
ing upon  it  as  the  beginning  of  a  competence.  But  at  the  end 
of  six  months  the  bubble  burst  —  the  stock  proved  to  be 
utterly  worthless,  —  Squire  Conant  lost  five  thousand  dol- 
lars. I  lost  seven  hundred,  five  hundred  being  borrowed 
money.  The  Squire's  loss  was  much  larger,  but  mine  was  the 
more  serious,  since  I  lost  everything  and  was  plunged  into 
debt,  while  he  had  at  least  forty  thousand  dollars  left. 

**  Two  days  after  the  explosion.  Squire  Conant  came  into  my 
shop  and  asked  abruptly  when  I  could  pay  him  the  amount  I 
had  borrowed.  I  told  him  that  I  could  not  fix  a  time.  I  said 
that  I  had  been  overwhelmed  by  a  result  so  contrary  to  my  an- 
ticipations, but  I  told  him  I  would  not  rest  till  I  had  done 
something  to  satisfy  his  claim.  He  was  always  an  unreason- 
able man,  and  reproached  me  bitterly  for  sinking  his  money  in 
a  useless  speculation,  as  if  I  could  foresee  how  it  would  end 
any  better  than  he." 

**  Have  you  ever  been  able  to  pay  back  any  part  of  the  five 
hundred  dollars,  father?" 

**  I  have  paid  the  interest  regularly,  and  a  year  ago,  just  be- 
fore I  met  with  my  accident,  I  had  laid  up  a  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  which  I  had  intended  to  pay  the  Squire,  but  when  my 
sickness  came  I  felt  obliged  to  retain  it  to  defray  our  expenses, 
being  cut  off  fi:om  earning  anything — " 


PAUL    PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  17 

•*  Then  I  suppose  you  have  not  been  able  to  p  ly  inteiest  for 
the  last  year." 

"No." 

*•  Have  you  heard  from  the  Squire  lately  ?  " 

**  Yes,  I  had  a  letter  only  last  week.  You  remember  bring- 
ing me  one  postmarked  Cedarville  ?  " 

**  Yes,  I  wondered  at  the  time  who  it  could  be  from.'" 

**  You  will  find  it  on  the  mantel-piece.  I  should  like  to  have 
you  get  it  and  read  it." 

Paul  readily  found  the  letter.  It  was  enclosed  in  a  brown 
envelop,  directed  in  a  bold  hand  to  **Mr.  John  Prescott, 
Wrenville." 

The  letter  was  as  follows :  — 


Cedarville,  April  15,  18 — , 
Mr.  John  Prescott  :  — 

Sir:  I  have  been  waiting  impatiently  to  hear  something 
about  the  five  hundred  dollars  in  which  sum  you  are  indebted 
to  me,  on  account  of  a  loan  which  I  was  fool  enough  to  make  you 
seven  years  since.  I  thought  you  an  honest  man,  but  I  have 
found,  to  my  cost,  that  I  was  nustaken.  For  the  last  year  you 
have  even  failed  to^  pay  interest  as  stipulated  between  us. 
Your  intention  is  evident.  I  quite  understand  that  you  have 
made  up  your  mind  to  defraud  me  of  what  is  rightfully  mine. 
I  don't  know  how  you  may  regard  this,  but  I  consider  it  as  bad 
as  highway  robbery.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  if  you  had 
your  deserts  you  would  be  in  the  Penitentiary.  Let  me  advise 
you,  if  you  wish  to  avoid  further  trouble,  to  make  no  delay 
in  paying  a  portion  of  this  debt. 

Yours,  &c. 

EZEKLEL  CONANT. 

Paul's  face  flushed  with  indignation  as  he  read  this  bitter  and 
cruel  letter. 

"Does  Squire  Con  ant  know  that  you  are  sick,  father?"  he 
inquired. 

*•  Yes,  I  wrote  him  about  my  accident,  telling  him  at  the 
a* 


18  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

same  time  that  I  regretted  it  in  part  on  account  of  the  inter- 
ruption which  it  must  occasion  in  my  payments."" 

*'  And  knowing  this,  he  wrote  such  a  letter  as  that,"  said  Paul, 
indignantly,  **  what  a  hard,  unfeeling  wretch  he  must  be  !  " 

"1  suppose  it  is  vexatious  to  him  to  be  kept  out  of  his 
money." 

**  But  he  has  plenty  more.  He  would  never  miss  it  if  he 
had  given  it  to  you  outright." 

**  That  is  not  the  way  to  look  at  it,  Paul.  The  money  is 
justly  his,  and  it  is  a  great  sorrow  to  me  that  I  must  die  with- 
out paying  it." 

"  Father,"  said  Paul,  after  a  pause,  *'  will  it  be  any  relief  to 
you  if  I  promise  to  pay  it,  — that  is,  if  I  am  ever  able  ?  " 

Mr.  Prescott's  face  brightened. 

"  That  was  what  I  wanted  to  ask  of  you,  Paul.  It  will  be  a 
comfort  to  me  to  feel  that  there  is  some  hope  of  the  debt  being 
paid  at  some  future  day." 

♦•  Then  don't  let  it  trouble  you  any  longer,  father.  The 
debt  shall  be  mine,  and  I  will  pay  it." 

Again  a  shadow  passed  over  the  sick  man's  face,  *'  Poor 
boy,"  he  said,  **  why  should  I  burden  your  young  life  with  such 
a  load  ?  You  will  have  to  struggle  hard  enough  as  it  is.  No, 
Paul,  recall  your  promise.  I  don't  want  to  purchase  comfort 
at  such  a  price." 

*'No,  father,"  said  Paul  sturdily,  **  it  is  too  late  now.  I 
have  made  the  promise  and  I  mean  to  stick  to  it.  Besides,  it 
will  give  me  something  to  live  for.  I  am  young  — I  may  have 
a  great  many  years  before  me.  For  thirteen  years  you  have 
supported  me.  It  is  only  right  that  I  should  make  what  return 
I  can.     1  '11  keep  my  promise,  father." 

**  May  God  help  and  prosper  you,  my  boy,"  said  Mr.  Pres- 
cott,  solemnly .  "You've  been  a  good  son;  I  pray  that  you 
may  grow  up  to  be  a  good  man.  But,  my  dear,  I  feel  tired. 
I  think  I  will  try  td  go  to  sleep." 

Paul  smoothed  the  comforter,  adjusting  it  carefully  about 


PAUL    PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  19 

his  father's  reck,  and  going  to  the  door  went  out  in  search  of 
some  wood  to  place  upon  the  fire.  Their  scanty  stock  of  fire- 
wood was  exhausted,  and  Paul  was  obliged  to  go  into  the  woods 
near  by,  to  obtain  such  loose  fagots  as  he  might  find  upon  the 
ground. 

He  was  coming  back  with  his  load  when  his  attention  was 
drawn  by  a  whistle.  Looking  up  he  discovered  Ben  Newcome 
approaching  him. 

* '  How  are  you,  Paul  ?  " 

"  Pretty  well,  Ben." 

*'  How  precious  lonesome  you  must  be,  mewed  up  in  the 
house  all  the  time." 

*'  Yes,  it  is  lonesome,  but  I  wouldn't  mind  that  if  I  thought 
father  would  ever  get  any  better." 

'*  How  is  he  this  morning  ?  " 

•'Pretty  low;  I  expect  he  is  asleep.  He  said  he  was  tired 
just  before  I  went  out." 

*•  I  brought  over  something  for  you,"  said  Ben,  tugging 
away  at  his  pocket. 

Opening  a  paper  he  displayed  a  couple  of  apple  turnovers 
fried  brown. 

"I  found  'em  in  the  closet,"  he  said.  "Won't  Hannah 
make  a  precious  row  when  she  finds  'em  gone  ?  " 

**  Then  I  don't  know  as  I  ought  to  take  them,"  said  Paul, 
though,  to  tell  the  truth,  they  looked  tempting  to  him. 

**  O,  nonsense,"  said  Ben ;  *'  they  don't  belong  to  Hannah. 
She  only  likes  to  scold  a  little ;  it  does  her  good." 

The  two  boys  sat  on  the  doorstep  and  talked,  while  Paul 
ate  the  turnovers.  Ben  watched  the  process  with  much  satis- 
faction. 

**  Aint  they  prime?  "  he  said, 

"First  rate,"  said  Paul ;  '*  won't  you  have  one ? " 

*•  No,"  said  Ben ;  '*  you  see  I  thought  while  I  was  about  it  I 
might  as  well  take  four,  so  I  ate  two  coming  along." 

In  about  fifteen  minutes  Paul  went  into  the  house  to  look 


20  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

at  his  father.    He  was  lying  very  quietly  upon  the  bed.     Paul 
drew  near  and  looked  at  him  more  closely.     There  was  some- 
thing in  the  expression  of  his  father's  face  which  terrified  him. 
Ben  heard  his  sudden  cry  of  dismay,  and  hurriedly  entered. 
Paul  pointed  to  the  bed,  and  said  briefly,  **  Father's  dead !" 
Ben,  who  in  spite  of  his  mischievous  propensities  was  gifted 
with  a  warm  heart,  sat  down  beside  Paul,  and  passing  his  arm 
round  his  neck,  gave  him  that  silent  sympathy  which  is  always  so 
grateful  to  the  grief-stricken  heart. 


m. 

Paul's  brilliant  prospects. 

Two  days  later,  the  funeral  of  Mr.  Prescott  took  place. 

Poor  Paul !  It  seemed  to  him  a  dream  of  inexpressible  soi> 
row.  Ilis  father  and  mother  both  gone,  he  felt  that  he  was  in- 
deed left  alone  in  the  world.  No  thought  of  the  future  had 
yet  entered  his  mind.  He  was  wholly  occupied  with  his 
present  sorrow.  Desolate  at  heart  he  slipped  away  from  the 
graveyard  afler  the  funeral  ceremony  was  over,  and  took  his 
way  back  again  to  the  lonely  dwelUng  which  he  had  called 
home. 

As  he  was  sitting  in  the  comer,  plunged  In  sorrowful  thought, 
there  was  a  scraping  heard  at  the  door,  and  a  loud  hem  ! 

Looking  up,  Paul  saw  entering  the  cottage  the  stiflf  form  of 
Squire  Benjamin  Newcome,  who,  as  has  already  been  stated, 
was  the  owner. 

**  Paul !  "  said  the  Squire,  with  measured  deliberation. 

**  Do  you  mean  me,  sir.** "  asked  Paul,  vaguely  conscious  that 
tis  name  had  been  called. 

**Did  I  not  address  you  by  your  baptismal  appellation?" 
demanded  the  Squire,  who  thought  the  boy's  question  super- 
fluous. 

*•  Paul,"  pursued  Squire  Newcome,  "  have  you  thought  of 
your  future  destination  ?  " 

*'No,  sir,"  said  Paul,  "  I  suppose  I  shall  live  here." 

**  That  arrangement  would  not  be  consistent  with  propriety. 


22  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

I  s\ippose  you  are  aware  that  your  deceased  parent  left  little  or 
no  worldly  goods." 

**  I  know  he  was  poor." 
'  *' Therefore  it  has  been  thought  best  'Aat  you  should  be 
placed  in  charge  of  a  worthy  man,  who  I  see  is  now  approach- 
ing the  house.  You  wiU  therefore  accompany  him  without  re- 
sistance. If  you  obey  him  and  read  the  Bible  regularly,  you 
will — ahem ! — you  will  some  time  or  other  see  the  advantage  ' 
of  it." 

With  this  consolatory  remark  Squire  Newcome  wheeled 
about  and  strode  out  of  the  house. 

Immediately  afterwards  there  entered  a  rough-looking  man 
arrayed  in  a  farmer's  blue  frock. 

*'  You're  to  come  with  me,  youngster,"  said  Mr.  Nicholas 
Mudsce,  for  that  was  his  name. 

**  With  you.P  "  said  Paul,  recoiling  instinctively. 

In  fact  there  was  nothing  attractive  in  the  appearance  or 
manners  of  Mr.  Mudge.  He  had  a  coarse  hard  face,  while  his 
head  was  surmounted  by  a  shock  of  red  hair,  which  to  all  appear- 
ance had  suffered  little  interference  from  the  comb  for  a  time 
which  the  observer  would  scarcely  venture  to  compute.  There 
was  such  an  utter  absence  of  refinement  about  the  man,  that 
Paul,  who  had  been  accustomed  to  the  gentle  manners  of  his 
father,  was  repelled  by  the  contrast  which  this  man  exhibited. 

**To  be   sure   you're  to  go  with  me,"  said  Mr.  Mudge. 
**  You  did  not  calc'late  you  was  a  goin'  to  stay  here  by  your* 
self,  did  you  ?     We  've  got  a  better  place  for  you  than  that 
But  the  wagon 's  waitin'  outside,  so  just  be  lively  and  bundle  in, 
and  I'll  carry  you  to  where  you  're  a  goin'  to  live." 

"  Where 's  that  ?  " 

*'Wal,  some  folks  call  it  the  Poor  House,  but  It  aint  any  the 
worse  for  that,  I  expect.  Anyhow,  them  as  has  no  money 
may  feel  themselves  lucky  to  get  so  good  a  home.  So  jest  be 
a  movin',  for  I  can't  be  a  waitin'  here  all  day." 

Paul  quietly  submitted  himself  to  the  guidance  of  Mr.  Mudge. 


PAUL    PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  23 

He  was  so  occupied  with  the  thoughts  of  his  sad  loss  that  he 
did  not  realize  the  change  that  was  about  to  take  place  in  hia 
circumstances. 

About  half  a  mile  from  the  village,  in  the  bleakest  and  most 
desolate  part  of  the  town,  stood  the  Poor  House.  It  was  a  crazy 
old  building  of  extreme  antiquity,  which,  being  no  longer  consid- 
ered fit  for  an  ordinary  dwelling-house,  had  been  selected  as  a 
suitable  residence  for  the  town's  poor.  It  was  bleak  and  com- 
fortless to  be  sure,  but  on  that  very  account  had  been  purchased 
at  a  trifling  expense,  and  that  was,  of  course,  a  primary  consid- 
eration. Connected  with  the  house  were  some  dozen  acres  of 
rough-looking  land,  plentifully  overspread  with  stones,  which 
might  have  filled  with  despair  the  most  enterprising  agricul- 
turist. However,  it  had  this  recommendation  at  least,  that  it 
was  quite  in  character  with  the  buildings  upon  it,  which  in  ad- 
dition to  the  house  already  described,  consisted  of  a  barn  of 
equal  antiquity  and  a  pig  pen. 

This  magnificent  domain  was  under  the  superintendence  of 
Mr.  Nicholas  Mudge,  who  in  consideration  of  taking  charge  of 
the  town  paupers  had  the  use  of  the  farm  and  buildings,  rent 
free,  together  with  a  stipulated  weekly  sum  for  each  of  the 
inmates. 

**Well,  Paul,"  said  Mr.  Mudge,  as  they  approached  the 
house,  in  a  tone  which  was  meant  to  be  encouraging,  **  this  is 
goin'  to  be  your  home.     How  do  you  like  it  ?  " 

Thus  addressed,  Paul  ventured  a  glance  around  him, 

•'I  don't  know,"  said  he,  doubtfully;  *' it  don't  look  very 
pleasant." 

"  Don't  look  very  pleasant ! "  repeated  Mr.  Mudge  in  a  tone 
of  mingled  amazement  and  indignation,  *' Well,  there's  grati- 
tude for  you.  After  the  town  has  been  at  the  expense  of  pro- 
vidin'  a  nice,  comfortable  home  for  you,  because  you  have  n't 
got  any  of  your  own,  you  must  turn  up  your  nose  at  it." 

**I  didn't  mean  to  complain,"  said  Paul,  feeling  very  little 
interest  'a  the  matter. 


24  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

"  Perhaps  you  expected  to  live  in  a  marble  palace,"  pursued 
Mr.  Mudge,  in  an  injured  tone.  **  We  don't  have  any  marble 
palaces  in  this  neighborhood,  we  don't." 

Paul  disclaimed  any  such  anticipation. 

Mr.  Mudge  deigned  to  accept  Paul's  apology,  and  as  they 
had  now  reached  the  door,  unceremoniously  threw  it  open,  and 
led  the  way  into  a  room  with  floor  unpainted,  which,  to  judge 
from  its  appearance,  was  used  as  a  kitchen. 


IV. 

LIFE   IN  A  NEW   PHASE. 

Everything  was  "  at  sixes  and  sevens,"  as  the  saying  is,  in 
the  room  Mr.  Mudge  and  Paul  had  just  entered.  In  the  midst 
of  the  scene  was  a  large  stout  woman,  in  a  faded  calico  dress, 
and  sleeves  rolled  up,  working  as  if  her  life  or  the  world's 
destiny  depended  upon  it. 

It  was  evident  from  the  first  words  of  lilr.  Mudge  that  this 
lady  was  his  helpmeet. 

**  Well,  wife,"  he  said,  "I've  brought  you  another  boarder. 
You  must  try  to  make  him  as  happy  and  contented  as  the  rest 
of  'em  are." 

From  the  tone  of  the  speaker,  the  last  words  might  be  un- 
derstood to  be  jocular. 

Mrs.  Mudge,  whose  style  of  beauty  was  not  improved  by  a 
decided  squint,  fixed  a  scrutinizing  gaze  upon  Paul,  and  he  quite 
naturally  returned  it. 

"Haven't  you  ever  seen  anybody  before,  boy.f*  I  guess 
you  '11  know  me  next  time." 

*'  Should  n't  wonder  if  he  did,"  chuckled  Mr.  Mudge. 

**  I  don't  know  where  on  earth  we  shall  put  him,"  remarked 
the  lady.     **  We  're  full  now." 

*•  O,  put  him  anywhere.  I  suppose  you  wont  be  very  partic- 
ular about  your  accommodations  ?  "  said  IVlr.  Mudge  turning 
to  Paul. 

Paul  very  innocently  answered  in  the  negative,  thereby  af- 
fording Mr.  Mudge  not  a  little  amusement. 
3 


26  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

**  Well,  that's  lucky,"  he  said,  **  because  our  best  Iroin 
chamber's  occupied  just  now.  We  M  have  got  it  ready  for  yoc; 
if  you'd  only  wrote  a  week  ago  to  tell  us  you  were  coming. 
*'you  can  just  stay  round  here,"  he  said  in  a  different  tone 
as  he  was  about  leaving  the  room,  *']VIrs.  Mudge  will  maybe 
want  }ou  to  do  something  for  her.  You  can  sit  down  till  sht 
calls  on  you." 

It  was  washing  day  with  Mrs,  Mudge,  and  of  course  she  was 
extremely  busy.  The  water  was  to  be  brought  from  a  well  in 
the  yard,  and  to  this  office  Paul  was  at  once  delegated.  It  was 
no  easy  task,  the  full  pails  tugging  most  unmercifully  at  his 
arms.  However,  this  was  soon  over,  and  Mrs.  Mudge  gracious- 
ly gave  him  permission  to  go  into  the  adjoining  room,  and 
make  acquaintance  with  his  fellow-boarders. 

There  were  nine  of  them  in  all,  Paul,  the  new-comer  making 
the  tenth.  They  were  all  advanced  in  years,  except  one  young 
woman,  who  was  prevented  by  mental  aberration  from  support- 
ins:  herself  outside  the  walls  of  the  Institution. 

Of  all  present,  Paul's  attention  was  most  strongly  attracted 
towards  one  who  appeared  more  neatly  and  scrupulously  attired 
than  any  of  the  rest. 

Aunt  Lucy  Lee,  or  plain  Aunt  Lucy,  for  in  her  present  ab^de 
she  had  small  use  for  her  last  name,  was  a  benevolent-looking 
old  lady,  who  both  in  dress  and  manners  was  distinguished 
from  her  companions.  She  rose  from  her  knitting,  and  kindly 
took  Paul  by  the  hand.  Children  are  instinctive  readers  of 
character,  and  Paul,  after  one  glance  at  her  benevolent  face, 
seated  himself  contentedly  beside  her. 

*' I  suppose,"  said  the  old  lady,  socially,  "you've  come  to 
live  with  us.  We  must  do  all  we  can  to  make  you  comfortable. 
Your  name  is  Paul  Prescott,  I  think  Mrs.  Mudge  said." 

**  Yes,  ma'am,"  answered  Paul,  watching  the  rapid  move- 
ment of  the  old  lady's  fingers. 

'*  Mine  is  Aunt  Lucy,"  she  continued,  **  that  is  what  every- 
body calls  me.    So  now  we  know  each  other,  and  shall  soon  be 


PAUL    PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  27 

good  friends ,  I  hope.  I  suppose  you  have  hardly  been  here 
long  enough  to  tell  how  you  shall  like." 

Paul  confessed  that  thus  far  he  did  not  find  it  very  pleasant. 

**  No,  I  dare  say  not,"  said  Aunt  Lucy,  *'  I  can't  say  I  think 
it  looks  very  attractive  myself.  However,  it  is  n't  wholly  the 
fault  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mudge.  They  can't  afford  to  do  much 
better,  for  the  town  allows  them  very  little." 

Aunt  Lucy's  remarks  were  here  interrupted  by  the  appa- 
rition of  the  worthy  landlady  at  the  door. 

**  Dinner's  ready,  folks,"  said  that  lady,  with  little  ceremony, 
**  and  you  must  come  out  quick  if  you  want  any,  for  I'm  drove 
with  work,  and  can't  be  hindered  long." 

The  summons  was  obeyed  with  alacrity,  and  the  company 
made  all  haste  to  the  dining-room,  or  rather  the  kitchen,  for  it 
was  here  that  the  meals  were  eaten. 

In  the  centre  of  the  room  was  set  a  table  without  a  cloth, 
a  table-cloth  being  considered  a  luxury  quite  superfluous. 
Upon  this  were  placed  several  bowls  of  thin,  watery  liquid,  in- 
tended for  soup,  but  which,  like  city  milk,  was  diluted  so  as 
hardly  to  be  distinguishable.  Beside  each  bowl  was  a  slice  of 
bread. 

Such  was  the  bill  of  fare. 

*'  Now,  folks,  the  sooner  you  fall  to  the  better,"  exclaimed 
the  energetic  Mrs.  Mudge,  who  was  one  of  those  driving 
characters,  who  consider  any  time  spent  at  the  table  beyond 
ten  minutes  as  so  much  time  wasted. 

The  present  'company  appeared  to  need  no  second  invitation. 
Their  scanty  diet  had  the  positive  advantage  of  giving  them 
a  good  appetite ;  o"^herwise  the  quality  of  their  food  might  have 
daunted  them. 

Paul  took  his  place  beside  Aunt  Lucy.  Mechanically  he  did 
as  the  rest,  carrying  to  his  mouth  a  spoonful  of  the  liquid. 
But  his  appetite  was  not  sufficiently  accustomed  to  Poor  House 
regime  to  enable  him  to  relish  its  standing  dish,  and  be  laid 
down  his  spoon  with  a  disappointed  look. 


28  PAUL  ppwESCOtt's  charge. 

He  next  attacked  the  crust  of  bread,  but  found  it  too  dry  to 
be  palatable. 

*'  Please  ma'am,"  said  he  to  Mrs.  Mudge,  **  I  should  like  some 
butter." 

Paul's  companions  dropped  their  spoons  in  astonishment  at 
his  daring,  and  Mrs.  Mudge  let  fall  a  kettle  she  was  removing 
from  the  fire,  in  sheer  amazement. 

**  What  did  you  ask  for?"  she  inquired,  as  if  to  make  sure 
that  her  ears  did  not  deceive  her. 

"  A  little  butter,"  repeated  Paul,  unconscious  of  the  great 
presumption  of  which  he  had  been  guilty. 

**  You  want  butter,  do  you.^  "  repeated  Mrs.  Mudge.  '*  Per- 
haps you  'd  like  a  slice  of  beefsteak  and  a  piece  of  plum-pud- 
ding too,  would  n't  you  ?  " 

*'  I  should  very  much,"  said  Paul,  resolved  to  tell  the  truth, 
although  he  now  began  to  perceive  the  sarcasm  in  his  land- 
lady's tone. 

"  There  is  n't  anything  more  you  would  like,  is  there?"  in* 
quired  the  lady,  with  mock  politeness. 

*'  No,  ma'am,"  returned  Paul  after  a  pause,  **  I  believe  not, 
to-day." 

"Very  moderate,  upon  my  word,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Mudge, 
giving  vent  at  length  to  her  pent-up  indignation.  "  You  '11  be 
contented  with  butter  and  roast  beef  and  plum-pudding !  A 
mighty  fine  gentleman,  to  be  sure.  But  you  won't  get  them 
here,  I'll  be  bound." 

**  So  will  I,"  thought  Aunt  Lucy. 

*•  If  you  ain't  satisfied  with  what  I  give  you,"  pursued  "Mrs. 
Mudge,  you'd  better  go  somewhere  else.  You  can  put  up  at 
some  of  the  great  hotels.     Butter,  forsooth!  " 

Having  thus  given  expression  to  her  feelings,  she  left  the 
room,  and  Paul  was  left  to  finish  his  dinner  with  the  best  appe- 
tite he  could  command.  He  was  conscious  that  he  had  offended 
Mrs.  Mudge,  but  the  thoughts  of  his  recent  great  sorrow  swal- 
lowed up   all  minor  annoyances,   so  that  the  words   of  his 


PAUL    PRESCOTT's   CHARGE.  29 

estimable  landlady  were  forgotten  almost  as  soon  as  they  were 
uttered.  He  felt  that  he  must  henceforth  look  for  far  different 
treatment  from  that  to  which  he  had  been  accustomed  during 
his  father's  lifetime. 

His  thoughts  were  interrupted  in  a  manner  somewhat  ludi- 
crous, by  the  crazy  girl  who  sat  next  to  him  coolly  appropri- 
ating to  herself  his  bowl  of  soup,  having  already  disposed  of 
her  own. 

"  Look,"  said  Aunt  Lucy,  quickly,  calling  Paul's  attention, 
**  you  are  losing  your  dinner." 

**  Never  mind,"  said  Paul,  amused  in  spite  of  his  sadness, 
**  she  is  quite  welcome  to  it  if  she  likes  it ;  I  can't  eat  it." 

So  the  dinner  began  and  ended.  It  was  very  brief  and 
simple,  occupying  less  than  ten  minutes,  and  comprising  only 
one  course  —  unless  the  soup  were  considered  the  first  course, 
and  tne  bread  the  second.  Paul  left  the  table  as  hungry  as  he 
came  to  it.  Aunt  Lucy's  appetite  had  become  accustomed  to 
the  Mudge  diet,  and  she  wisely  ate  what  was  set  before  her, 
knowing  that  there  was  no  hope  of  anything  better. 

About  an  hour  after  dinner  Ben  Newcome  came  to  the  door 
of  the  Poor  House  and  inquired  for  Paul. 

Mrs.  Mudge  was  in  one  of  her  crusty  moods.  **  You  can^t 
see  him,"  said  she. 

**  And  why  not  ?  "  said  Ben,  resolutely. 

**  Because  he 's  busy." 

"You'd  better  let  me  see  him,"  said  Ben,  sturdily. 

•*  I  should  like  to  know  what 's  going  to  happen  if  I  don't,** 
said  Mrs.  Mudge,  with  wrathful  eyes,  and  arms  akimbo. 

**I  shall  go  home  and  report  to  my  father,"  said  Ben, 
coolly. 

"Who  is  your  father?"  asked  Mrs.  Mudge,  for  she  did  not 
recognize  her  visitor. 

"My  father's  name  is  Newcome  —  Squire  Newcome,  some 
call  him." 

Now  it  so  happened  that  Squire  Newcome  was  Chairman  of 
3* 


30  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

the  Overseers  of  the  Poor,  and  in  that  capacity  might  remove 
Mr.  Mudge  from  office  if  he  pleased.  Accordingly  Mrs. 
Mudge  softened  down  at  once,  on  learning  that  Ben  was  his 
son. 

*'0,"  said  she,  **  I  didn't  know  who  it  was.  I  thought  it 
might  be  some  idle  boy  from  the  village  who  would  only  take 
Paul  from  his  work,  but  if  you  have  a  message  from  your 
father  —  " 

This  she  said  to  ascertain  whether  he  really  had  any  message 
or  not,  but  Ben,  who  had  in  fact  come  without  his  father's 
knowledge,  only  bowed,  and  said,  in  a  patronizing  manner,  "I 
accept  your  apology,  Mrs.  Mudge.  Will  you  have  the  good- 
ness to  send  Paul  out  ?  " 

"Won't  you  step  in?"  asked  Mrs.  Mudge  with  unusual 
politeness. 

"No,  I  believe  not." 

Paul  was  accordingly  sent  out. 

He  was  verj'-  glad  to  meet  his  schoolmate  and  playfellow, 
Ben,  who  by  his  gayety,  spiced  though  it  was  with  roguery, 
had  made  himself  a  general  favorite  in  school. 

**  I  say,  Paul,"  said  Ben,  "  Pm  sorry  to  find  you  in  such  a 
place." 

**  It  is  n't  very  pleasant,"  said  Paul,  rather  soberly. 

"And  that  woman  —  Mrs.  Mudge  —  she  looks  as  if  she 
might  be  a  regular  spitfire,  is  n't  she  ?  " 

"Rather  so." 

"I  only  wish  the  old  gentleman  —  meaning  of  course,  the 
Squire  —  would  take  you  to  live  with  me.  I  want  a  fellow  to 
play  with.  But  I  say,  Paul,  go  and  get  your  hat,  and  we  '11  go 
out  for  a  walk.'* 

"  I  don't  know  what  Mrs.  Mudge  will  say,"  said  Paul,  who 
had  just  come  from  turning  the  handle  of  a  chum. 

"  Just  call  Mrs.  Mudge,  and  I  '11  manage  it." 

Mrs.  Mudge  being  summoned,  made  her  appearance  at  the 
door. 


PAUL    PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  31 

"  I  presume,  ma'am,"  said  Ben,  confidently,  **you  will  have 
no  objection  to  Paul's  taking  a  walk  with  me  while  I  deliver  the 
message  I  am  entrusted  with." 

*'  Certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  rather  unwillingly,  but  not 
venturing  to  refuse. 

**  It  takes  me  to  come  it  over  the  old  lady,"  said  Ben,  when 
they  were  out  of  hearing.     **  Now,  we  'U  go  a  fishing.^ 


V. 

A  CRISIS. 

Before  sunrise  the  next  morning  Paul  was  awakened  by  a 
rude  shake  from  Mr.  Mudge,  with  an  intimation  that  he  had 
better  get  up,  as  there  was  plenty  of  work  before  him. 

By  the  light  of  the  lantern,  for  as  yet  It  was  too  dark  to  dis- 
pense with  It,  Paul  dressed  himself.  Awakened  from  a  sound 
sleep,  he  hardly  had  time  to  collect  his  thoughts,  and  it  was 
with  a  look  of  bewilderment  that  he  surveyed  the  scene  about 
him.  As  Mrs.  Mudge  had  said,  they  were  pretty  full  already, 
and  accordingly  a  rude  pallet  had  been  spread  for  him  in  the 
attic,  of  which,  with  the  exception  of  nocturnal  marauders,  he 
was  the  only  occupant.  Paul  had  not,  to  be  sure,  been  used 
to  very  superior  accommodations,  and  if  the  bed  had  not  been 
quite  so  hard,  he  would  have  got  along  very  well.  As  It  was 
he  was  separated  from  slats  only  by  a  thin  straw  bed  which  did 
not  improve  matters  much.  It  was  therefore  with  a  sense  of 
weariness  which  slumber  had  not  dissipated,  that  Paul  arose 
at  the  summons  of  Mr.  Mudge. 

When  he  reached  the  kitchen,  he  found  that  gentleman  walt- 
insT  for  him. 

"  Do  you  know  how  to  milk  ?  "  was  his  first  salutation. 

**  I  never  learned,"  said  Paul. 

**  Then  you  '11  have  to.  In  double-quick  time,"  was  the  reply, 
•*  for  I  don't  relish  getting  up  so  early,  and  you  can  take  it  off 
my  hands." 


PAUL    PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  33 

The  two  proceeded  to  the  bam,  where  Paul  received  his  first 
lesson  in  this  important  branch  of  education. 

Mr.  Mudge  kept  five  cows.  One  might  have  thought  he 
could  have  afforded  a  moderate  supply  of  milk  to  his  boarders, 
but  all,  with  the  exception  of  a  single  quart,  was  sold  to  the 
milkman  who  passed  the  door  every  morning. 

After  breakfast,  which  was  on  the  same  economical  plan  with 
the  dinner  of  the  day  previous,  Paul  was  set  to  work  planting 
potatoes,  at  which  he  was  kept  steadily  employed  till  the  din- 
ner-hour. 

Poor  Paul !  his  back  ached  dreadfully,  for  he  had  never  be- 
fore done  any  harder  work  than  trifling  services  for  his  father. 
But  the  inexorable  Mr.  Mudge  was  in  sight,  and  however  much 
he  wished,  he  did  not  dare  to  lay  aside  his  hoe  even  for  a 
moment. 

Twelve  o'clock  found  him  standing  beside  the  dinner-table. 
He  ate  more  heartily  than  before,  for  his  forenoon's  labor  made 
even  poorhouse  fare  palatable. 

Mrs.  Mudge  observed  the  change,  and  remarked  in  a  satis- 
fied tone,  **Well,  my  fine  gentleman,  I  see  you  are  coming  to 
your  appetite.     I  thought  you  wouldn't  hold  out  long." 

Paul,  who  had  worn  off  something  of  his  diffidence,  could 
not  help  feeling  indignant  at  this  speech ;  unaccustomed  to  be 
addressed  in  this  way,  the  taunt  jarred  upon  his  feelings,  but 
he  only  bit  his  lip  and  preserved  silence. 

Aunt  Lucy,  too,  who  had  come  to  feel  a  strong  interest  in 
Paul,  despite  her  natural  mildness,  could  not  resist  the  temp- 
tation of  saying  with  some  warmth,  ''What's  the  use  of  perse- 
cuting the  child  ?  He  has  sorrows  enough  of  his  own  without 
your  adding  to  them." 

Mrs.  Mudge  was  not  a  little  incensed  at  this  remonstrance. 

**  I  should  like  to  know,  ma'am,  who  requested  you  to  put  in 
your  oar!  "she  said  with  arms  akimbo.  *' Anybody  wouldn't 
think  from  your  lofty  airs  that  you  lived  in  the  poorhouse ; 
I  '11  thank  you  to  mind  your  own  business  in  future,  and  not 
meddle  with  what  don't  concern  you. " 


34  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

Aunt  Lucy  was  wise  enough  to  abstain  from  provoking 
further  the  wrath  of  her  amiable  landlady,  and  continued  to 
eat  her  soup  in  silence.  But  Mrs.  Mudge  never  forgot  this  in- 
terference, nor  the  cause  of  it,  and  henceforth  with  the  maligni- 
ty of  a  narrow-minded  and  spiteful  woman,  did  what  she  could 
to  make  Paul  uncomfortable.  Her  fertile  ingenuity  always  found 
some  new  taunt,  or  some  new  reproach,  to  assail  him  with. 
But  Paul,  though  at  first  he  felt  indignant,  learned  at  last  to 
treat  them  as  they  deserved,  with  silent  disdain.  Assured  of 
the  sympathy  of  those  around  him,  he  did  not  allow  his  appetite 
to  be  spoiled  by  any  remark  which  Mrs.  Mudge  might  offer. 

This,  of  course,  only  provoked  her  the  more,  and  she  strove 
to  have  his  daily  tasks  increased,  in  the  amiable  hope  that  his 
*'  proud  spirit"  might  be  tamed  thereby. 

Mr.  Mudge,  who  was  somewhat  under  petticoat  government, 
readily  acceded  to  his  wife's  wishes,  and  henceforth  Paul's 
strength  was  taxed  to  its  utmost  limit.  He  was  required  to  be 
up  with  the  first  gray  tint  of  dawn  and  attend  to  the  cattle. 
From  this  time  until  night,  except  the  brief  time  devoted  to 
his  meals,  he  was  incessantly  occupied.  Aunt  Lucy's  society, 
his  chief  comfort,  was  thus  taken  from  him ;  since,  in  order  to 
rise  early,  he  was  obliged  to  go  to  bed  as  soon  as  possible  after 
his  day's  work  was  finished. 

The  effects  of  such  incessant  labor  without  a  sufficient  sup- 
ply of  nourishing  food,  may  easily  be  imagined.  The  dry 
bread  and  meagre  soup  which  constituted  the  chief  articles  of 
diet  in  Mrs.  Mudge's  economical  household,  had  but  one 
recommendation,  — they  were  effectual  preventives  of  gluttony. 
It  was  reported  that  on  one  occasion  a  beggar,  apparently 
famisliing  with  hunger,  not  knowing  the  character  of  the  house, 
made  application  at  the  door  for  food.  In  an  unusual  fit  of 
generosity,  Mrs.  Mudge  furnished  him  with  a  slice  of  bread 
and  a  bowl  of  soup,  which,  however,  proved  so  far  from 
tempting  that  the  beggar,  hungry  as  he  was,  left  them  almost 
untouched. 

One  day,  as  Paul  was  working  in  the  field  at  a  little  dis- 


PAUL  prescott's  chaege.  35 

tan^e  from  Mr.  Mudge,  he  became  conscious  of  a  peculiar  feel- 
ing of  giddiness  which  compelled  him  to  cling  to  the  hoe  for 
support,  — otherwise  he  must  have  fallen. 

*'  No  laziness  there,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Mudge,  observing  Paul's 
cessation  from  labor,  "  We  can't  support  you  in  idleness." 

But  the  boy  paid  no  regard  to  this  admonition,  and  Mr. 
Mudge,  somewhat  surprised,  advanced  toward  him  to  enforce 
the  command.  Even  he  was  startled  at  the  unusual  paleness 
of  Paul's  face,  and  inquired  in  a  less  peremptory  tone,  "  what's 
the  matter  ?  " 

*'I  feel  sick,"  gasped  Paul. 

Without  another  word,  Mr.  Mudge  took  Paul  up  in  his  arma 
and  carried  him  into  the  house. 

'*  What's  the  matter,  now  ?  "  asked  his  wife,  meeting  him  at 
the  door. 

**  The  boy  feels  a  little  sick,  but  I  guess  he  '11  get  over  it  by- 
and  by.  Have  n't  you  got  a  little  soup  that  you  can  give  him  ? 
I  reckon  he's  faint,  and  that'll  brighten  him  up." 

Paul  evidently  did  not  think  so,  for  he  motioned  away  a  bowl 
of  the  delightful  mixture,  though  it  was  proffered  him  by  the 
fair  hands  of  Mrs.  Mudge.  That  lady  was  somewhat  surprised, 
and  said,  roughly,  "  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  was  only  trying 
to  shirk." 

This  was  too  much  even  for  Mr.  Mudge ;  **  The  boy 's  sick," 
said  he,  "  that 's  plain  enough  ;  if  he  don't  get  better  soon,  I 
must  send  for  the  doctor,  for  work  drives,  and  I  can't  spare 
him." 

*'  There  's  no  more  danger  of  his  being  sick  than  mine,"  said 
Mrs.  Mudge,  emphatically;  *'  however,  if  you're  fool  enough 
to  go  for  a  doctor,  that 's  none  of  my  business.  I  've  heard  of 
feigning  sickness  before  now,  to  get  rid  of  work.  A«  to  his 
being  pale,  I've  been  as  pale  as  that  myself  sometimes  without 
your  troubling  yourself  very  much  about  mt;." 

*'  'T  won't  be  any  expense  to  us,"  alleged  Mr.  Mudge,  in  a 
tone  of  justification,  for  he  felt  in  some  awe  of  his  wife's  tem- 


36  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

per,  which  was  none  of  the  mildest  when  a  little  roused, 
** '  Twon't  be  any  expense  to  us ;  the  town  has  got  to  pay  for  it, 
and  as  long  as  it  will  get  him  ready  for  work  sooner,  we  might 
as  well  take  advantage  of  it." 

This  consideration  somewhat  reconciled  ]\Irs.  Mudge  to  the 
step  proposed,  and  as  Paul,  instead  of  getting  better,  grew 
rapidly  worse,  ]\lr.  Mudgo  thought  it  expedient  to  go  im- 
mediately for  the  village  physician.  Luckily  Dr.  Townsend 
was  at  home,  and  an  hour  afterwards  found  him  standing  be- 
side the  sick  boy. 

**  I  don't  know  but  you'll  think  it  rather  foolish,  our  sending 
for  you,  doctor,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  but  Mudge  would  have  it 
that  the  boy  was  sick  and  so  he  went  for  you." 

**  And  he  did  quite  right,"  said  Dr.  Townsend,  noticing  the 
ghastly  pallDr  of  Paul's  face.  *'He  is  a  very  sick  boy,  and  if  I 
had  not  been  called  I  would  not  have  answered  for  the  conse- 
quences.    How  do  you  feci,  my  boy?"  he  inquired  of  Paul. 

*'  I  feel  very  weak,  and  my  head  swims,"  was  the  reply. 

**  How  and  when  did  this  attack  come  on  ?  "  asked  the  doc- 
tor, turning  to  Mr.  Mudge. 

•'  He  was  taken  while  hoeing  In  the  field,"  was  the  reply. 

**  Have  you  kept  him  at  work  much  there  lately? " 

"Well,  yes,  I've  been  drove  by  work,  and  he  has  worked 
there  all  day  latterly." 

**  At  what  time  has  he  gone  to  work  in  the  morning  ?  " 

*'  He  has  got  up  to  milk  the  cows  about  five  o'clock.  I  used 
to  do  it,  but  since  he  has  learned,  I  have  indulged  myself  a 
little.*' 

'*  It  would  have  been  well  for  him  if  he  had  enjoyed  the  same 
privilege.  It  is  my  duty  to  speak  plainly.  The  sickness  of 
this  boy  lies  at  your  door.  He  has  never  been  accustomed  to 
hard  labor,  and  yet  you  have  obliged  him  to  rise  earlier  and  work 
later  than  most  men.  No  wonder  he  feels  weak.  Has  he  a 
good  appetite  ?  " 

**  Well,  rather  middlin',"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  **  but  it's  mainly 


Paul  prescott's  charge.  37 

because  he  's  too  damty  to  eat  what 's  set  before  him.  Why, 
only  the  first  day  he  was  here  he  turned  up  his  nose  at  the  bread 
and  soup  we  had  for  dinner." 

**Is  this  a  specimen  of  the  soup?  "asked  Dr.  Townsend, 
taking  from  the  table  the  bowl  which  had  been  proffered  to 
Paul  and  declined  by  him. 

Without  ceremony  he  raised  to  his  lips  a  spoonful  of  tho 
soup  and  tasted  it  with  a  wry  face. 

**  Do  you  often  have  this  soup  on  the  table?"  he  asked 
abruptly. 

**  We  always  have  it  once  a  day,  and  sometimes  twice," 
returned  Mrs.  Mudge. 

*'  And  you  call  the  boy  dainty  because  he  don't  relish  such 
stuff  as  this  ?  "  said  the  doctor,  with  an  Indignation  he  did  not 
attempt  to  conceal.  "  Why,  I  wouldn't  be  hired  to  take  the 
contents  of  that  bowl.  It  is  as  bad  as  any  of  my  own  medicines, 
and  that 's  saying  a  good  deal.  How  much  nourishment  do 
you  suppose  such  a  mixture  would  afford  ?  And  yet  with  little 
else  to  sustain  him  you  have  worked  this  boy  like  a  beast  of 
burden,  —  worse  even,  for  they  at  least  have  abundance  of 
good  food." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mudge  both  winced  under  this  plain  speaking, 
but  they  did  not  dare  to  give  expression  to  their  anger,  for  they 
well  knew  that  Dr.  Townsend  was  an  Influential  man  In  town, 
and,  by  representing  the  affair  In  the  proper  quarter,  might 
render  their  hold  upon  their  present  post  a  very  precarious  one. 
Mr.  Mudge  therefore  contented  himself  with  muttering  that  he 
guessed  he  worked  as  hard  as  anybody,  and  he  did  n't  complain 
of  his  fare. 

"May  I  ask  you,  Mr.  Mudge,"  said  the  doctor,  fixing  hia 
penetrating  eye  full  upon  him,  "whether  you  confine  yourself 
to  the  food  upon  which  you  have  kept  this  boy  ?  " 

*•  Well,"  said  Mr.  Mudge,  in  ?ome  confusion,  moving  un- 
easily In  his  seat,   ' '  I  can't  say  but  now  and  then  I  eat  somu- 
tiling  a  little  different." 
4 


38  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

**Da  you  eat  at  the  same  table  with  the  inmates  of  your 

house  ?  " 

*'  Well,  no,"  said  the  embarrassed  Mr.  Mudge. 

*'  Tell  me  plainly,  —  how  often  do  you  partake  of  this  soup  ?  " 

*'  I  aint  your  patient,"  said  the  man,  sullenly,  *'  Why  should 
you  want  to  know  what  I  eat  ?  " 

"  I  have  an  object  in  view.     Are  you  afraid  to  answer?" 

**1  don't  know  as  there 's  anything  to  be  afraid  of.  The 
fact  is,  I  aint  partial  to  soup ;  it  don't  agree  with  me,  and  so  I 
don't  take  it." 

*•  Did  you  ever  consider  that  this  might  be  the  case  with 
others  as  well  as  yourself  ? "  inquired  the  doctor  with  a 
glance  expressive  of  his  contempt  for  IMr.  Mudge's  selfishness. 
Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  Dr.  Townsend  ordered  Paul  to  be 
put  to  bed  immediately,  after  which  he  would  leave  some 
medicine  for  him  to  take. 

Here  was  another  embarassment  for  the  worthy  couple. 
They  hardly  knew  where  to  put  our  hero.  It  would  not  do  for 
them  to  carry  him  to  his  pallet  in  the  attic,  for  they  felt  sure 
that  this  would  lead  to  some  more  plain  speaking  on  the  part 
of  Dr.  Townsend.  He  was  accordingly,  though  with  reluctance, 
placed  in  a  small  bedroom  upstairs,  which,  being  more  com- 
fortable than  those  appropriated  to  the  paupers,  had  been  re- 
served for  a  son  at  work  in  a  neighboring  town,  on  his  occasional 
visits  home. 

"  Is  there  no  one  in  the  house  who  can  sit  in  the  chamber 
and  attend  to  his  occasional  wants?"  asked  Dr.  Townsend. 
*'  He  will  need  to  take  his  medicine  at  stated  periods,  an(l 
some  one  will  be  required  to  administer  it." 

"There  's  Aunt  Lucy  Lee,"  said  Mrs.  JMudge,  **  she's  taken 
A  fancy  to  the  boy,  and  I  reckon  she  '11  do  as  well  as  anybody." 

*'  No  one  better,"  returned  the  doctor,  who  well  knew 
Aunt  Lucy's  kindness  of  disposition,  and  was  satisfied  that  she 
ffould  take  all  possible  care  of  his  patient. 

So  it  was  arranged  that  Aunt  Lucy  should  take  her  place 
at  Paulas  bedside  as  his  nurse. 


PAUL   PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  39 

Paul  Tvas  sick  for  many  days,  —  not  dangerously  so,  but  hard 
work  and  scanty  fare  had  weakened  him  to  such  a  degree  that 
exhausted  nature  required  time  to  recruit  its  wasted  forces. 
But  he  was  not  unhappy  or  restless.  Hour  after  hour  he  would 
lie  patiently,  and  listen  to  the  clicking  of  her  knitting  needles. 
Though  not  provided  with  luxurious  food,  Dr.  Townsend  had 
spoken  with  so  much  plainness  that  Mrs.  Mudge  felt  compelled 
to  modify  her  treatment,  lest,  through  his  influence,  she  with 
her  husband,  might  lose  their  situation.  This  forced  forbear- 
ance, however,  was  far  from  warming  her  heart  towards  its 
object.  Mrs.  Mudge  was  a  hard,  practical  woman,  and  her 
heart  was  so  encrusted  with  worldliness  and  self-interest  that 
she  might  as  well  have  been  without  one. 

One  day,  as  Paul  lay  quietly  gazing  at  Aunt  Lucy's  benevo- 
lent face,  and  mentally  contrasting  it  with  that  of  Mrs.  Mudge, 
whose  shrill  voice  could  be  heard  from  below,  he  was  seized 
with  a  sudden  desire  to  learn  something  of  her  past  history. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  here.  Aunt  Lucy  .f'  "  he  Inquired. 

She  looked  up  from  her  knitting,  and  sighed  as  she  answered, 
**  A  long  and  weary  time  to  look  back  upon,  Paul.  I  have  been 
here  ten  years." 

*'  Ten  years,"  repeated  Paul,  thoughtfully,  '*and  I  hn  thir- 
teen. So  you  have  been  here  nearly  all  my  lifetime.  Haa 
Mr.  Mudge  been  here  all  that  time  ?  " 

*'  Only  the  last  two  years.  Before  that  we  had  Mrs.  Per- 
kins." 

"  Did  she  treat  you  any  better  than  Mrs.  Mudge  ?  " 

**  Any  better  than  Mrs.  Mudge  !  "  vociferated  that  lady,  who 
had  ascended  the  stairs  without  being  heard  by  Aunt  Lucy  or 
Paul,  and  had  thus  caught  the  last  sentence.  "  Any  better 
than  Mrs.  Mudge  ! "  she  repeated,  thoroughly  provoked.  "  So 
youVe  been  talking  about  me,  you  trollop,  have  you.^  I'll 
come  up  with  you,  you  may  depend  upon  that.  That's  to  pay 
for  my  giving  you  tea  Sunday  night,  is  it  ?  Perhaps  you  '11  get 
some  more.     It 's  pretty  well  in  paupers  conspiring  together 


40  PAUL  PRESCOTT*S   CHaUGE. 

because  they  aint  treated  like  princes  and  princesses.  Per- 
haps you  'd  like  to  got  boarded  with  Queen  Victoria." 

The  old  lady  sat  very  quiet  during  this  tirade.  She  had 
been  the  subject  of  similar  invective  before,  and  knew  that  it 
would  do  no  good  to  oppose  Mrs.  Mudge  in  her  present  ex- 
cited state. 

**  I  don't  wonder  you  haven't  anything  to  say,"  said  the  in- 
furiated dame.  **  I  should  think  you  'd  want  to  hide  your  face 
to  shame,  you  trollop." 

Paul  was  not  quite  so  patient  as  his  attendant.  Her  kind- 
ness had  produced  such  an  impression  upon  him,  that  Mrs, 
Mudge,  by  her  taunts,  stirred  up  his  indignation. 

**  She 's  no  more  of  a  trollop  than  you  are,"  said  he,  with 
spirit. 

Mrs.  Mudge  wheeled  round  at  this  unexpected  attack,  and 
shook  her  fist  menacingly  at  Paul  — 

**So,  you've  put  in  your  oar,  you  little  jackanapes,"  said 
she,  **  If  you  're  well  enough  to  be  impudent  you  're  well  enough 
to  go  to  work.  You  aint  a  goin'  to  lie  here  idle  much  longer, 
I  can  tell  you.  If  you  deceive  Dr.  Townsend,  and  make  him 
believe  you're  sick,  you  can't  deceive  me.  No  doubt  you  feel 
mighty  comfortable,  lyin'  here  with  nothin  to  do,  while  I'm  a 
slavin'  myself  to  death  down  stairs,  waitin'  upon  you;  (this 
was  a  slight  exaggeration,  as  Aunt  Lucy  took  the  entire  charge 
of  Paul,  including  the  preparation  of  his  food ;)  but  you  'd 
better  make  the  most  of  it,  for  you  won't  lie  here  much  longer. 
You  '11  miss  not  bein'  able  to  talk  about  me,  wont  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Mudge  paused  a  moment  as  if  expecting  an  answer  to 
her  highly  sarcastic  question,  but  Paul  felt  that  no  advantage 
would  be  gained  by  saying  more.  He  was  not  naturally  a 
quick-tempered  boy,  and  had  only  been  led  to  this  little  ebulli- 
tion by  the  wanton  attack  of  Mrs.  Mudge. 

This  lady,  after  standing  a  moment  as  if  defying  the  twain  to 
a  further  contest,  went  out,  slamming  the  door  violently  after 
her. 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S  CHARGE.  41 

**  You  did  wrong  to  provoke  her,  Paul,"  sa.d  Aunt  Lucy, 
gravely. 

**  How  could  I  help  it?"  asked  Paul,  earnestly.  **If  she 
had  only  abused  wie,  I  should  not  have  cared  so  much,  but 
when  she  spoke  about  you,  who  have  been  so  kind  to  me,  I 
could  not  be  silent." 

**  I  thank  you,  Paul,  for  your  kind  feeling,"  said  the  old 
lady  gently,  **  but  we  must  learn  to  bear  and  forbear.  The 
best  of  us  have  our  faults  and  failings." 

**  What  are  yours.  Aunt  Lucy?" 

**  O,  a  great  many." 

«*  Such  as  what  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  sometimes  discontented  with  the  station 
which  God  has  assigned  me." 

*'  I  don 't  think  you  can  be  very  much  to  blame  for  that.  I 
should  never  learn  to  be  contented  here  if  I  lived  to  the  age  of 
Methuselah." 

Paul  lay  quite  still  for  an  hour  or  more.  During  that  time 
he  formed  a  determination  which  will  be  announced  in  t  he  next 
chapter. 


VI. 

Paul's  determination. 

At  the  close  of  the  last  chapter  it  was  stated  that  Paul  had 
come  to  a  determination. 

This  was,  —  to  run  away. 

That  he  had  good  reason  for  this  we  have  already  seen. 

lie  was  now  improving  rapidly,  and  only  waited  till  he  was 
well  enough  to  put  his  design  into  execution. 

**  Aunt  Lucy,"  said  he  one  day,  **  I've  got  something  to  tell 
you." 

The  old  lady  looked  up  inquiringly. 

*'  It's  something  I've  been  thinking  of  a  long  time, — at 
least  most  of  the  time  since  I've  been  sick.  It  isn't  pleasant 
for  me  to  stay  here,  and  I  've  pretty  much  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  sha'n't." 

*' Where  will  you  go?"  asked  the  old  lady,  dropping  her 
work  in  surprise. 

''  I  don't  know  of  any  particular  place,  but  I  should  be 
better  off  almost  anj-where  than  here." 

*•  But  you  are  so  young,  Paul." 

"  God  will  take  care  of  me.  Aunt  Lucy,  —  mother  used  to 
tell  me  that.  Besides,  here  I  have  no  hope  of  learning  anything 
or  improving  my  condition.  Then  again,  if  I  stay  here,  I  can 
never  do  what  father  wished  me  to  do." 

♦♦  What  is  that,  Paul .?  " 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  43 

Paul  told  the  story  of  his  father's  indebtedness  to  Sq  lire 
Conant,  and  the  cruel  letter  which  the  Squire  had  written. 

*'  I  mean  to  pay  that  debt,"  he  concluded  firmly.  '*  I 
wont  let  anybody  say  that  my  father  kept  them  out  of  their 
money.  There  is  no  chance  here ;  somewhere  else  I  may  find 
work  and  money." 

*' It  is  a  great  undertaking  for  a  boy  like  you,  Paul,"  said 
Aunt  Lucy  thoughtfully.     *'  To  whom  is  the  money  due  ?  " 

*'  Squire  Conant  of  Cedarville." 

Aunt  Lucy  seemed  surprised  and  agitated  by  the  mention  of 
this  name. 

**  Paul,"  said  she,  '*  Squire  Conant  is  my  brother." 

*' Your  brother !  "  repeated  he  in  great  surprise.  "Then 
why  does  he  allow  you  to  live  here  ?  He  is  rich  enough  to  take 
care  of  you." 

"  It  is  a  long  story,"  said  the  old  lady,  sadly.  *'  All  that  you 
will  be  interested  to  know  is  that  I  married  against  the  wishes 
of  my  family.  My  husband  died  and  I  was  left  destitute.  My 
brother  has  never  noticed  me  since." 

*'  It  is  a  great  shame,"   said  Paul. 

*'  We  wont  judge  him,  Paul.  Have  you  fixed  upon  any  time 
to  go  ?  " 

* '  I  shall  wait  a  few  days  till  I  get  stronger.  Can  you  tell  me 
how  far  it  is  to  New  York  ?  " 

*' O,  a  great  distance;  a  hundred  miles  at  least.  You 
can  't  think  of  ffoincr  so  far  as  that  ?  " 

*'  I  think  It  would  be  the  best  plan,"  said  Paul.  In  a  great 
city  like  New  York  there  must  be  a  great  many  things  to  do 
which  I  can't  do  here.  I  don't  feel  strong  enough  to  work  on 
a  farm.  Besides  I  don't  like  it.  O,  It  must  be  a  fine  thing  to 
live  In  a  great  city.  Then  too,"  pursued  Paul,  his  face  lighting 
up  with  the  hopeful  confidence  of  youth.  '*  I  may  become 
rich.  If  I  do.  Aunt  Lucy,  I  will  build  a  fine  house,  and  you 
shall  come  and  live  with  me." 

Aunt  Lucy  had  seen  more  of  life  than  Paul,  and  wa.s  less  san- 


44  PAUL  prescott's  chaege. 

guire.  The  thought  came  to  her  that  her  life  was  already  de- 
clining while  his  was  but  just  begun,  and  in  the  course  of  nature, 
even  if  his  bright  dreams  should  be  realized,  she  could  hardly 
hope  to  live  long  enough  to  see  it.  But  of  this  she  said 
nothing.  She  would  not  for  the  world  have  dimmed  the  bright- 
ness of  his  anticipations  by  the  expression  of  a  single  doubt. 

**I  wish  you  all  success,  Paul,  and  I  thank  you  for  wishing 
me  to  share  in  your  good  fortune.  God  helps  those  who  help 
themselves,  and  he  will  help  you  if  you  only  deserve  it.  I 
shall  miss  you  very  much  when  you  are  gone.  It  will  seem 
more  lonely  than  ever." 

**  If  it  were  not  for  you.  Aunt  Lucy,  I  should  not  mind  going 
at  all,  but  I  shall  be  sorry  to  leave  you  behind." 

*'  God  will  care  for  both  of  us,  my  dear  boy.  I  shall  hope  to 
hear  from  you  now  and  then,  and  if  I  learn  that  you  are 
prosperous  and  happy,  I  shall  be  better  contented  with  my  own 
lot.  But  have  you  thought  of  all  the  labor  and  weariness  that 
you  will  have  to  encounter  ?  It  is  best  to  consider  well  all  this, 
before  entering  upon  such  an  undertaking." 

•*  I  have  thought  of  all  that,  and  if  there  were  any  prospect 
of  my  being  happy  here,  I  might  stay  for  the  present.  But 
you  know  how  Mrs.  Mudge  has  treated  me,  and  how  she  feels 
towards  me  now." 

•'  I  acknowledge,  Paul,  that  it  has  proved  a  hard  apprentice- 
ship, and  perhaps  it  might  be  made  yet  harder  if  you  should  stay 
longer.  You  must  let  me  know  when  you  are  going,  I  shall 
want  to  bid  you  good-by." 

*'  No  fear  that  I  shall  forget  that,  Aunt  Lucy.  Next  to  my 
mother  you  have  been  most  kind  to  me,  and  I  love  you  for  it.'' 

Lightly  pressing  her  lips  to  Paul's  forehead  Aunt  Lucy  left 
the  I  oom  to  conceal  the  emotion  called  forth  by  his  approach- 
ing departure.  Of  all  the  inmates  of  the  establishment  she 
had  felt  most  closely  drawn  to  the  orphan  boy,  whose  loneliness 
and  bereavement  had  appealed  to  her  woman's  heart.  This 
feeling  had  been  strengthened  by  the  care  she  had  been  called 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  45 

to  bestow  upon  him  in  his  illness,  for  it  is  natural  to  love 
those  whom  we  have  benefited.  But  Aunt  Lucy  was  the  most 
unselfish  of  living  creatures,  and  the  idea  of  dissuading  Paul 
from  a  course  which  he  felt  was  right  never  occurred  to  her. 
She  determined  that  she  would  do  what  she  could  to  further 
his  plans,  now  that  he  had  decided  to  go.  Accordingly  she 
commenced  knitting  him  a  pair  of  stockings,  knowing  that  this 
would  prove  a  useful  present.  Th's  came  near  being  the 
means  of  discovering  PauPs  plan  to  Mrs.  Mudge.  The  latter, 
who  notwithstanding  her  numerous  duties,  managed  to  see 
everything  that  was  going  on,  had  her  attention  directed  to 
Aunt  Lucy''s  work. 

•*  Have  you  finished  the  stockings  that  1  set  you  to  knitting 
for  Mr.  Mudge  ?  "  she  asked. 

**  No,"  said  Aunt  Lucy,  in  some  confusion. 

**  Then  whose  are  those,  I  should  like  to  know.**  Somebody 
of  more  importance  than  my  husband,  I  suppose." 

*'  They  are  for  Paul,"  returned  the  old  lady,  in  some  uneasi- 
ness. 

**  Paul ! "  repeated  Mrs.  Mudge,  in  her  haste  putting  a  double 
quantity  of  salaeratus  into  the  bread  she  was  mixing ;  ♦*  Paul's 
are  they  .►*  And  who  asked  you  to  knit  him  a  pair,  I  should 
like  to  be  informed  ?  " 

**  No  one." 

**  Then  what  are  you  doing  it  for?" 

**  I  thought  he  might  want  them." 

**  Mighty  considerate,  I  declare.  And  I  shouldn't  be  at  all 
surprised  if  you  were  knitting  them  with  the  yarn  I  gave  you 
for  Mr.  Mudge's  stockings." 

'*  You  are  mistaken,"  said  Aunt  Lucy,  shortly. 

**  Oh,  you  're  putting  on  your  airs,  are  you.**  I'll  tell  you 
what.  Madam,  you  'd  better  put  those  stockings  away  in  double- 
quick  time,  and  finish  my  husband's,  or  I  '11  throw  them  into  the 
fire,  and  Paul  Prescott  may  wait  till  he  goes  barefoot  before  he 
gets  them." 


46  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

There  was  no  alternative.  Aunt  Lucy  was  obliged  to  obey, 
at  least  while  her  persecutor  was  in  the  room.  When  alone 
for  any  length  of  time  she  took  outPiul's  stockings  from  under 
her  apron,  and  worked  on  them  till  the  approaching  steps  of 
^Irs.  Mudge  warned  her  to  desist. 


Three  days  passed.  The  shadows  of  twilight  were  already 
upon  the  earth.  The  paupers  were  collected  in  the  common 
room  appropriated  to  their  use.  Aunt  Lucy  had  suspended 
her  work  in  consequence  of  the  darkness,  for  in  this  economi- 
cal household  a  lamp  was  considered  a  useless  piece  of  extrava- 
gance. Paul  crept  quietly  to  her  side,  and  whispered  in  tones 
audible  to  her  alone,  "  lam  going  to-morrow.'''^ 

'*  To-morrow !  so  soon  ?  " 

*'  Yes,"  said  Paul,  "  I  am  as  ready  now  as  I  shall  ever  be. 
I  wanted  to  tell  you,  because  I  thought  maybe  you  might  like 
to  know  that  this  is  the  last  evening  we  shall  spend  together  at 
present." 

**  Do  you  go  in  the  morning  ?  " 

**  Yes,  Aunt  Lucy,  early  in  the  morning.  Mr.  Mudge  usually 
calls  me  at  five ;  I  must  be  gone  an  hour  before  that  time.  I 
suppose  I  must  bid  you  good-by  to-night." 

' '  Not  to-night,  Paul ;  I  shall  be  up  in  the  morning  to  see  you 
go." 

*'  But  if  Mrs.  Mudge  finds  it  out  she  will  abuse  you." 

*•  I  am  used  to  that,  Paul,"  said  Aunt  Lucy,  with  a  sorrow- 
ful smile.  **  I  have  borne  it  many  times,  and  1  can  again.  But 
I  can't  lie  quiet  and  let  you  go  without  one  word  of  parting. 
You  are  quite  determined  to  go  ?  " 

"  Quite,  Aunt  Lucy.  I  never  could  stay  here.  There  is  no 
pleasure  in  the  present,  and  no  hope  for  the  future.  I  want  to 
see  something  of  life,"  and  Paul's  boyish  figure  dilated  with 
enthusiasm. 


PAUL   PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  47 

**  God  grant  that  you  do  not  see  too  much ! "  said  Aunt 
Lucy,  half  to  herself. 

**  Is  the  world,  then,  so  very  sad  a  place?"  asked  Paul. 

**  Both  joy  and  sorrow  are  mingled  in  the  cup  of  human  life,'' 
said  Aunt  Lucy,  solemnly.  *'  Which  shall  preponderate  it  is 
partly  in  our  power  to  determine.  He  who  follows  the  path  of 
duty  steadfastly,  cannot  be  wholly  miserable,  whatever  mis- 
fortunes may  come  upon  him.  He  will  be  sustained  by  tho 
conviction  that  his  own  errors  have  not  brought  them  upon 
him." 

*'  I  will  try  to  do  right,"  said  Paul,  placing  his  hand  in  that 
of  his  companion,  **  and  if  ever  I  am  tempted  to  do  wrong,  I 
will  think  of  you  and  of  my  mother,  and  that  thought  shall  re- 
strain me." 

"It's  time  to  go  bed,  folks,"  proclaimed  Mrs.  Mudge,  ap- 
pearing at  the  door.  *'  I  can't  have  you  sitting  up  all  night, 
as  I  've  no  doubt  you  'd  like  to  do." 

It  was  only  eight  o'clock,  but  no  one  thought  of  interposing 
an  objection.  The  word  of  Mrs.  Mudge  was  law  in  her  house- 
hold, as  even  her  husband  was  sometimes  made  aware. 

All  quietly  rose  from  their  seats  and  repaired  to  bed.  It 
was  an  affecting  sight  to  watch  the  tottering  gait  of  those  on 
whose  heads  the  snows  of  many  winters  had  drifted  heavily, 
as  they  meekly  obeyed  the  behest  of  one  whose  coarse  nature 
forbade  her  sympathizing  with  them  in  their  clouded  age,  and 
many  infirmities. 

"  Come,"  said  she,  impatient  of  their  slow  movements, 
•'  move  a  little  quicker,  if  it 's  perfectly  convenient.  Anybody'd 
think  you'd  been  hard  at  work  all  day,  as  I  have.  You're 
about  the  laziest  set  I  ever  had  anything  to  do  with.  I  've 
got  ic  be  up  early  in  the  morning,  and  can't  stay  here  dawd- 
ling." 

*'  She  'r  got  a  sweet  temper,"  said  Paul,  in  a  whisper,  to  Aunt 
Lucy. 

♦•  Hush  ! "  said  the  old  lady.     "  She  may  he&r  you." 


48  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

**  What 's  that  you  're  -wrhispering  about  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Mudge, 
suspiciously.  "Something  you're  ashamed  to  have  heard,  most 
likely." 

Paul  thought  it  best  to  remain  silent. 

"  To-morrow  morning  at  four ! "  he  whispered  to  Aunt  Lucy, 
as  he  pressed  her  hand  in  the  daxknest. 


vn. 

PAUL  BEGINS   HIS   JOURNEY. 

Paul  ascended  the  stairs  to  his  hard  pallet  for  the  last  time. 
For  the  last  time  !  There  is  sadness  in  the  thought,  even  when 
the  future  which  lies  before  us  glows  with  brighter  colors  than 
the  past  has  ever  worn.  But  to  Paul,  whose  future  was  veiled 
in  uncertainty,  and  who  was  about  to  part  with  the  only  friend 
who  felt  an  interest  in  his  welfare,  this  thought  brought  in- 
creased sorrow. 

He  stood  before  the  dirt-begrimed  window  through  which 
alone  the  struggling  sunbeams  found  an  inlet  into  the  gloomy 
little  attic,  and  looked  wistfully  out  upon  the  barren  fields  that 
surrounded  the  poorhouse.  Where  would  he  be  on  the  mor- 
row at  that  time?  He  did  not  know.  He  knew  little  or 
nothing  of  the  great  world  without,  yet  his  resolution  did  not 
for  an  instant  falter.  If  it  had,  the  thought  of  Mrs.  Mudge 
would  have  been  enough  to  remove  all  his  hesitation. 

He  threw  himself  on  his  hard  bed,  and  a  few  minutes  brought 
him  that  dreamless  sleep  which  comes  so  easily  to  the  young. 

Meanwhile  Aunt  Lucy,  whose  thoughts  were  also  occupied 
with  Paul's  approaching  departure,  had  taken  from  the  pocket 
of  her  other  dress  —  for  she  had  but  two  —  something  wrapped 
in  a  piece  of  brown  paper.  One  by  one  she  removed  the 
many  folds  in  which  it  was  enveloped,  and  came  at  length  to 
the  contents. 

It  was  a  coin. 

**  Paul  will  need  some  money,  poor  boy,"  said  she,  softly  to 


50  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

herself,  **  I  will  give  him  this.     It  will  never  do  me  any  good, 

and  it  may  be  of  some  service  to  him." 

So  saying  she  looked  carefully  at  the  coin  in  the  moonlight. 

But  what  made  her  start,  and  utter  a  half  exclamation  ? 

Instead  of  the  gold  eagle,  the  accumulation  of  many  years, 
which  she  had  been  saving  for  some  extraordinary  occasion  lika 
the  present,  she  held  in  her  hand  —  a  copper  cent. 

**  I  have  been  robbed,"  she  exclaimed  indignantly  in  the 
suddenness  of  her  surprise. 

**  What's  the  matter  now?"  inquired  Mrs.  Mudge,  appear- 
ing at  the  door,  '*  Why  are  you  not  in  bed,  Aunt  Lucy  Lee? 
How  dare  you  disobey  my  orders  ?  " 

•*  I  have  been  robbed,"  exclaimed  the  old  lady  in  unwonted 
excitement. 

*'  Of  what,  pray  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Mudge,  with  a  sneer. 

*•  I  had  a  gold  eagle  wrapped  up  in  that  paper,"  returned 
Aunt  Lucy,  pointing  to  the  fragments  on  the  floor,  '*  and  now, 
to-night,  when  I  come  to  open  it,  I  find  but  this  cent." 

**  A  likely  story,"  retorted  Mrs.  Mudge,  very  likely,  in- 
deed, that  a  common  pauper  should  have  a  gold  eagle.  If  you 
found  a  cent  in  the  paper,  most  likely  that's  what  you  put  there. 
YouVe  growing  old  and  forgetful,  so  don't  get  foolish  and 
flighty.     You  'd  better  go  to  bed." 

*'  But  I  did  have  the  gold,  and  it 's  been  stolen,"  persisted 
Aunt  Lucy,  whose  disappointment  was  the  greater  because  she 
intended  the  money  for  Paul. 

•'  Again  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Mudge.  *'  Will  you  never  have 
done  with  this  folly  ?  Even  If  you  did  have  the  gold,  which  I 
don't  for  an  instant  believe,  you  could  n't  keep  it.  A  pauper 
has  no  right  to  hold  property." 

*'  Then  why  did  the  one  who  stole  the  little  I  had  leave  me 
this  ?  "  said  the  old  lady,  scornfully,  holding  up  the  cent  which 
had  been  substituted  for  the  gold. 

**  How  should  I  know  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Mudge,  wrathfuUy. 
•*  You  talk  as  if  you  thought  I  had  taken  your  tnimpery  money/ 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  51 

"  So  you  did ! "  chimed  In  an  unexpected  voice,  which  made 
Mrs.  Mudge  start  nervously. 

It  was  the  young  woman  already  mentioned,  who  was  bereft 
of  reason,  but  who  at  times,  as  often  happens  in  such  cases, 
seemed  gifted  with  preternatural  acuteness. 

**  So  you  did.  I  saw  you,  I  did ;  I  saw  you  creep  up  when 
yi)u  thought  nobody  was  looking,  and  search  her  pocket.  You 
opened  that  paper  and  took  out  the  bright  yellow  piece,  and 
put  in  another.  You  did  n't  think  I  was  looking  at  you,  ha !  ha ! 
How  I  laughed  as  I  stood  behind  the  door  and  saw  you  tremble 
for  fear  some  one  would  catch  you  thieving.  You  did  n't  think 
of  me,  dear,  did  you  ?  " 

And  the  wild  creature  burst  into  an  unmeaning  laugh. 

Mrs.  Mudge  stood  for  a  moment  mute,  overwhelmed  by  this 
sudden  revelation.  But  for  the  darkness,  Aunt  Lucy  could 
have  seen  the  sudden  flush  which  overspread  her  face  with  tho 
crimson  hue  of  detected  guilt.  But  this  was  only  for  a  moment. 
It  was  quickly  succeeded  by  a  feeling  of  intense  anger  towards 
the  unhappy  creature  who  had  been  the  means  of  exposing  her. 

*'  I'll  teach  you  to  slander  your  betters,  you  crazy  fool,"  she 
exclaimed,  in  a  voice  almost  inarticulate  with  passion,  as  she 
seized  her  rudely  by  the  arm,  and  dragged  her  violently  from 
the  room. 

She  returned  immediately. 

*'  I  suppose,"  said  she,  abruptly,  confronting  Aunt  Lucy, 
**  that  you  are  fool  enough  to  believe  her  ravings  ?  " 

'*  I  bring  no  accusation,"  said  the  old  lady,  calmly,  **  If  your 
conscience  acquits  you,  it  is  not  for  me  to  accuse  you." 

"  But  what  do  you  think  ? "  persisted  Mrs.  Mudge,  whose 
consciousness  of  guilt  did  not  leave  her  quite  at  ease. 

**  I  cannot  read  the  heart,"  said  Aunt  Lucy,  composedly. 
**  I  can  only  say,  that,  pauper  as  I  am,  I  would  not  exchange 
places  with  the  one  who  has  done  this  deed." 

*'  Do  you  mean  me?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Mudge. 

•♦  You  can  tell  best." 

**  I  tell  you  what,  Aunt  Lucy  Lee,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  her 


52  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

eyes  blazing  with  anger,  "  If  you  dare  insinuate  to  any  living 
soul  that  I  stole  your  paltry  money,  which  I  don't  believe  you 
ever  had,  I  will  be  bitterly  revenged  upon  you." 

She  flaunted  out  of  the  room,  and  Aunt  Lucy,  the  first  bit- 
terness of  her  disappointment  over,  retired  to  bed,  and  slept 
more  tranquilly  than  the  unscrupulous  woman  who  had  robbed 
her. 

At  a  quarter  before  four  Paul  started  from  his  humble  couch, 
and  hastily  dressing  himself,  took  up  a  little  bundle  containing 
all  his  scanty  stock  of  clothing,  and  noiselessly  descended  the 
two  flights  of  stairs  which  separated  him  from  the  lower  story. 
Here  he  paused  a  moment  for  Aunt  Lucy  to  appear.  Her 
sharp  ears  had  distinguished  his  stealthy  steps  as  he  passed  her 
door,  and  she  came  down  to  bid  him  good-by.  She  had  in  her 
hands  a  pair  of  stockings  which  she  slipped  into  his  bundle. 

*•  I  wish  I  had  something  else  to  give  you,  Paul,"  she  said, 
•*  but  you  know  that  I  am  not  very  rich." 

"Dear  Aunt  Lucy,"  said  Paul,  kissing  her,  *' you  are  my 
only  friend  on  earth.  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me,  and  I 
never  will  forget  you,  7iever!  By-and-by,  when  I  am  rich,  I 
will  build  a  fine  house,  and  you  will  come  and  live  with  me, 
won't  you  ?  " 

Paul's  bright  anticipations,  improbable  as  they  were,  had  the 
effect  of  turning  his  companion's  thoughts  into  a  more  cheerful 
channel. 

She  bent  down  and  kissed  him,  whispering  softly,  *'  Yes,  I 
will,  Paul." 

*•  Then  it's  a  bargain,"  said  he,  joyously,  **  Mind  you  don't 
forget  it.  I  shall  come  for  you  one  of  these  days  when  you 
least  expect  it." 

*'  Have  you  any  money?"  inquired  Aunt  Lucy. 

Paul  shook  his  head. 

**  Then,"  said  she,  drawing  from  her  finger  a  gold  ring  which 
had  held  its  place  for  many  long  years,  **  here  is  something 
which  will  bring  you  a  little  money  if  you  are  ever  in  distress." 

Paul  hung  back. 


PAUL  PRESCOTT's   CHARGE.  53 

**  I  would  rather  not  take  it,  indeed  I  would,"  he  said, 
earnestly,  *•  I  would  rather  go  hungry  for  two  or  three  days 
than  sell  your  ring.  Besides,  I  shall  not  need  it ;  God  will 
provide  for  me." 

*'  But  you  need  not  sell  it,"  urged  Aunt  Lucy,  *'  unless  it  is 
absolutely  necessary.  You  can  take  it  and  keep  it  in  re- 
membrance of  me.  Keep  it  till  you  see  me  again,  Paul.  It 
will  be  a  pledge  to  me  that  you  will  come  back  again  some 
day." 

*' On  that  condition  I  will  take  it,"  said  Paul,  "and  some 
day  I  will  bring  it  back." 

A  slight  noise  above,  as  of  some  one  stirring  in  sleep,  excited 
the  apprehensions  of  the  two,  and  warned  them  that  it  was 
imprudent  for  them  to  remain  longer  in  conversation. 

After  a  hurried  good-by.  Aunt  Lucy  quietly  went  up  stairs 
again,  and  Paul,  shouldering  his  bundle,  walked  rapidly  away. 

The  birds,  awakening  from  their  night's  repose,  were  be- 
ginning to  carol  forth  their  rich  songs  of  thanksgiving  for 
the  blessing  of  a  new  day.  From  the  tlowers  beneath  his  feet 
and  the  blossom-laden  branches  above  his  head,  a  delicious 
perfume  floated  out  upon  the  morning  air,  and  filled  the  heart 
of  the  young  wanderer  with  a  sense  of  the  joyousness  of  ex- 
istence, and  inspired  him  with  a  hopeful  confidence  in  the 
future. 

For  the  first  time  he  felt  that  he  belonged  to  himself.  At 
the  age  of  thirteen  he  had  taken  his  fortune  in  his  own  hand, 
»nd  was  about  to  mould  it  as  best  he  might. 

There  were  care,  and  toil,  and  privations  before  him,  no 
doubt,  but  iu  that  bright  morning  hour  he  could  harbor  only 
cheerful  and  trusting  thoughts.  Hopefully  he  looked  forward 
to  the  time  when  he  could  fulfil  his  father's  dying  injunction, 
and  lift  from  his  name  the  burden  of  a  debt  unpaid.  Then  his 
mind  reverting  to  another  thought,  he  could  not  help  smiling 
at  the  surprise  and  anger  of  Mr.  Mudge,  when  he  should  find 
that  his  assistant  had  taken  French  leave.     He  thought  ho 


54  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

should  like  to  be  concealed  somewhere  where  he  could  witness 
the  commotion  excited  by  his  own  departure.  But  as  he 
could  not  be  in  two  places  at  the  same  time,  he  must  lose  that 
satisfaction.  He  had  cut  loose  from  the  Mudge  household, 
as  he  trusted,  forever.  He  felt  that  a  new  and  brighter  life 
was  opening  before  him. 


VIII. 

A  FRIEND  IN  NEED. 

OuE  hero  did  not  stop  till  he  had  put  a  gocd  five  miles  be- 
tween himself  and  the  poorhouse.  He  knew  that  it  would  not 
be  long  before  Mr.  Mudge  would  discover  his  absence,  and  the 
thought  of  being  carried  back  was  doubly  distasteful  to  him 
now  that  he  had,  even  for  a  short  time,  felt  the  joy  of  being 
his  own  master.  His  hurried  walk,  taken  in  the  fresh  morning 
air,  gave  him  quite  a  sharp  appetite.  Luckily  he  had  the  means 
of  gratifying  it.  The  night  before  he  had  secreted  half  his 
supper,  knowing  that  he  should  need  it  more  the  next  morn- 
ing.    He  thought  he  might  now  venture  to  sit  down  and  eat  it. 

At  a  little  distance  from  the  road  was  a  spring,  doubtless 
used  for  cattle,  since  it  was  situated  at  the  lower  end  of  a 
pasture.  Close  beside  and  bending  over  it  was  a  broad,  branch- 
ing oak,  which  promised  a  cool  and  comfortable  shelter. 

**  That's  just  the  place  for  me,"  thought  Paul,  who  felt  thirsty 
as  well  as  hungry ;  **  I  think  I  will  take  breakfast  here  and  rest 
awhile  before  I  go  any  farther." 

So  saying  he  leaped  lightly  over  the  rail  fence,  and  making 
his  way  to  the  place  indicated,  sat  down  in  the  shadow  of  the 
tree.  Scooping  up  some  water  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  he 
drank  a  deep  and  refreshing  draught.  He  next  proceeded  to 
pull  out  of  his  pocket  a  small  package,  which  proved  to  contain 
two  small  pieces  of  bread.  His  long  morning  walk  had  giveo 
him  such  an  appetite  that  he  was  not  long  in  despatching  all 


56  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

he  had.  It  is  said  by  some  learned  physicians,  who  no  doubt 
understand  the  matter,  that  we  should  always  rise  from  the 
table  with  an  appetite.  Probably  Paul  had  never  heard  of  this 
rule.  Nevertheless,  he  seemed  in  a  fair  way  of  putting  it  into 
practice,  for  the  best  of  all  reasons,  because  he  could  not  help 
it. 

His  breakfast,  though  not  the  most  inviting,  being  simply 
unbuttered  bread  and  rather  dry  at  that,  seemed  more  delicious 
than  ever  before,  but  unfortunately  there  was  not  enough  of  it. 
However,  as  there  seemed  likely  to  be  no  more  forthcoming, 
he  concluded  in  default  of  breakfast  to  lie  down  under  the  tree 
for  a  few  minutes  before  resuming  his  walk.  Though  he  could 
not  help  wondering  vaguely  where  his  dinner  was  to  come 
from,  as  that  time  was  several  hours  distant,  he  wisely  decided 
not  to  anticipate  trouble  till  it  came. 

Lying  down  under  the  tree,  Paul  began  to  consider  what 
Mr.  Mudge  would  say  when  he  discovered  that  he  had  run 
ft  way. 

*'  He  '11  have  to  milk  the  cows  himself,"  thought  Paul.  **  He 
won't  fancy  that  much.  Won't  Mrs.  Mudge  scold,  though  ? 
I  'm  glad  I  shan't  be  within  hearing." 

*♦  Holloa ! " 

It  was  a  boy's  voice  that  Paul  heard. 

Looking  up  he  saw  a  sedate  company  of  cows  entering  the 
pasture  single  file  through  an  aperture  made  by  letting  down 
the  bars.  Behind  them  walked  a  boy  of  about  his  own  size, 
flourishing  a  stout  hickory  stick.  The  cows  went  directly  to 
the  spring  from  which  Paul  had  already  drunk.  The  young 
driver  looked  at  our  hero  with  some  curiosity,  wondering, 
doubtless,  what  brought  him  there  so  early  in  the  morning. 
After  a  little  hesitation  he  said,  remarking  Paul's  bundle, 
**  Where  are  you  travelling  ?  " 

*'  I  don't  know  exactly,"  said  Paul,  who  was  not  quite  sure 
whether  it  would  be  politic  to  avow  his  destination. 

**  Don't  know?  "  returned  the  other,  evidently  suiprised. 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  57 

"Not  exactly ;  I  may  go  to  New  York." 

"New  York ! "  That 's  a  great  ways  oflf.  Do  you  know  the 
way  there  ?  " 

"No,  but  I  can  find  it." 

"  Are  you  going  all  alone  ?  "  asked  his  new  acquaintance, 
who  evidently  thought  Paul  had  undertaken  a  very  formidable 
journey. 

"  Yes." 

"  Are  you  going  to  walk  all  the  way  ?  " 

**  Yes,  unless  somebody  offers  me  a  ride  now  and  then." 

"  But  why  don't  you  ride  in  the  stage,  or  in  the  cars  ?  You 
would  get  there  a  good  deal  quicker." 

"  One  reason,"  said  Paul,  hesitating  a  little,  "  is,  because  I 
have  no  money  to  pay  for  riding." 

"Then  how  do  you  expect  to  live?  Have  you  had  any 
breakfast,  this  morning  ?  " 

"  I  brought  some  with  me,  and  just  got  through  eating  it 
when  you  came  along." 

"  And  where  do  you  expect  to  get  any  dinner?  "  pursued  his 
questioner,  who  was  evidently  not  a  little  puzzled  by  the 
answers  he  received. 

"I  don't  know,"  returned  Paul. 

His  companion  looked  not  a  little  confounded  at  this  view 
of  the  matter,  but  presently  a  bright  thought  struck  him. 

"I  should  n't  wonder,"  he  said,  shrewdly,  "if  you  were 
running  away." 

Paul  hesitated  a  moment.  He  knew  that  his  case  must  look 
a  little  suspicious,  thus  unexplained,  and  after  a  brief  pause  for 
reflection  determined  to  take  the  questioner  into  his  confidence. 
He  did  this  the  more  readily  because  his  new  acquaintance 
looked  very  pleasant. 

"You've  guessed  right,"  he  said;  "if  you'll  promise  not 
to  tell  anybody,  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it." 

This  was  readily  promised,  and  the  boy,  who  gave  his  name 
as  John  Burgess,  sat  down  beside  Paul,  while  he,  with  the 


58  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

fiunkness  of  boyhood,  gave  a  circumstantial  account  of  Ms 
Father's  death,  and  the  ill-treatment  he  had  met  with  sub- 
sequently. 

"  Do  you  come  from  Wrenville?"  asked  John,  interested. 
**  "Why,  I  've  got  relations  there.  Perhaps  you  know  my 
cousin,  Ben  Newcome." 

"  Is  Ben  Newcome  your  cousin?  O  yes,  I  know  him  very 
irell ;  he  's  a  first-rate  fellow." 

*'  He  isn't  much  like  his  father." 

*'  Not  at  all.     If  he  was  "— 

*' You  wouldn't  like  him  so  well.  Uncle  talks  a  little  too 
much  out  of  the  dictionary,  and  walks  so  straight  that  he  bends 
backward.  But  I  say,  Paul,  old  Mudge  deserves  to  be  choked, 
and  Mrs.  Mudge  should  be  obliged  to  swallow  a  gallon  of  her 
own  soup.  I  don 't  know  but  that  would  be  worse  than  chok- 
ing.  I  would  n't  have  stayed  so  long  if  I  had  been  in  your  place." 

"I  shouldn't,"  said  Paul,  "if  it  hadn't  been  for  Aunt 
Lucy." 

*  •  Was  she  an  aunt  of  yours  ?  " 

**  No,  but  we  all  used  to  call  her  so.  She's  the  best  friend 
I  've  got,  and  I  don't  know  but  the  only  one,"  said  Paul,  a 
little  sadly. 

*'No,  she  isn't,"  said  John,  quickly;  "  I'll  be  your  friend, 
Paul.  Some  time,  perhaps,  I  shall  go  to  New  York,  myself,  and 
then  I  will  come  and  see  you.     Where  do  you  expect  to  be  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  the  city,"  said  Paul,  "but  if 
you  come,  I  shall  be  sure  to  see  you  somewhere.  I  wish  you 
were  ""oinfj  now." 

Neither  Paul  nor  his  companion  had  much  idea  of  the  extent 
of  the  great  metropolis,  or  they  would  not  have  taken  it  so 
mui'-h  as  a  matter  of  course  that,  being  in  the  same  place,  they 
should  meet  each  oAer. 

Their  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  ringing  of  a  bell 
from  a  farmhouse  within  sight. 

*'  That 's  cur  breakfast-bell,"  said  John,  rising  from  the  grass. 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  59 

•*  It  18  meant  for  me.  I  suppose  they  wonder  what  keeps  me  so 
long.     Won't  you  come  and  take  breakfast  with  me,  Paul  ?  " 

*'  I  guess  not,"  said  Paul,  who  would  have  been  glad  to  do 
80  had  he  followed  the  promptings  of  his  appetite.  *'Iara 
afraid  your  folks  would  ask  me  questions,  and  then  it  would  be 
found  out  that  I  am  running  away." 

**I  didn't  think  of  that,"  returned  John,  after  a  pause. 
**  You  haven't  got  any  dinner  with  you?"  he  said  a  moment 
after. 

*'Ko." 

*•  Well,  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  '11  do.  Come  with  me  as  far  as 
the  fence,  and  lie  down  there  till  I've  finished  breakfast. 
Then  I  '11  bring  something  out  for  you,  and  maybe  I  '11  walk 
along  a  little  way  with  you." 

**  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Paul,  gratefuVy. 

**0,  nonsense,"  said  John,  '*  that's  nothing.  Besides,  you 
know  we  are  going  to  be  friends." 

**  John !  breakfast's  ready." 

**  There 's  Nelson  calling  me,"  said  John,  hurriedly.  **  I  must 
leave  you ;  there 's  the  fence ;  lie  down  there,  and  I  '11  be  back 
in  a  jiffy." 

**  John,  I  say,  why  don't  you  come  ?  " 

"I'm  coming.  You  mustn't  think  everybody's  got  such  a 
thundering  great  appetite  as  you,  Nelson." 

**  I  guess  you've  got  enough  to  keep  you  from  pining  away," 
said  Nelson,  good-naturedly,  "you're  twice  as  fat  as  lam." 

*•  That 's  because  I  work  harder,"  said  John,  rather  lUogically, 

The  brothers  went  in  to  breakfast. 

But  a  few  minutes  elapsed  before  John  reappeared,  bearing 
under  his  arm  a  parcel  wrapped  up  in  an  old  newspaper.  He 
came  up  panting  with  the  haste  he  had  made. 

*•  It  did  n't  take  you  long  to  eat  breakfast,"  said  Paul. 

*'  No,  I  hurried  through  it ;  I  thought  you  would  get  tired 
of  waiting.  And  now  I  '11  walk  along  with  you  a  little  ways. 
But  wait,  here 's  something  for  you." 


60  PAUL  pkescott's  charge. 

So  saying,  be  unrolled  the  newspaper  and  displayed  a  loaf  of 
bread,  fresh  and  warm,  which  looked  particularly  inviting  to 
Paul,  whose  scanty  breakfast  had  by  no  means  satisfied  his 
appetite.  Besides  this,  there  was  a  loaf  of  molasses  ginger- 
bread, with  which  all  who  were  bom  In  the  country,  or  know 
anything  of  New  England  housekeeping,  are  familiar. 

*'  There,"  said  John,  *'  I  guess  that'll  be  enough  for  your 
dinner." 

* '  But  how  did  you  get  it  without  having  any  questiona 
asked  ?  "  inquired  our  hero. 

•*  O,"  said  John,  *'  I  asked  mother  for  them,  and  when  she 
asked  what  I  wanted  of  them,  I  told  her  that  I  'd  answer  that 
question  to-morrow.  You  see  I  wanted  to  give  you  a  chance 
to  get  off  out  of  the  way,  though  mother  would  n't  tell,  even  if 
she  knew." 

•*  All  right,"  said  Paul,  with  satisfaction. 

He  could  not  help  looking  wistfully  at  the  bread,  which 
looked  very  inviting  to  one  accustomed  to  poorhouse  fare. 

*'  If  you  wouldn't  mind,"  he  said,  hesitating,  *'  I  would  like 
to  eat  a  little  of  the  bread  now." 

*•  Mind  !  of  course  not,"  said  John,  breaking  off  a  liberal  slice. 
"Why  did  n't  I  think  of  that  before?  Walking  must  have 
given  you  a  famous  appetite." 

John  looked  on  with  evident  approbation,  while  Paul  ate 
with  great  apparent  appetite. 

**  There,"  said  he  with  a  sigh  of  gratification,  as  he  swallow- 
ed the  last  morsel,  *'  I  haven't  tasted  anything  so  good  for  a 
long  time." 

**Is  it  as  good  as  Mrs.  Mudge's  soup?"  asked  John, 
mischievously. 

' *  Almost,'-  returned  Paul,  smiling. 

We  must  now  leave  the  boys  to  pursue  their  way,  and  return 
to  the  dwelling  from  which  our  hero  had  so  unceremoniously 
taken  his  departure,  and  from  which  danger  now  threatened 
him 


IX. 

A  CLOUD  IN  THE  MUDGE   HORIZON. 

Mr.  Mudge  was  accustomed  to  call  Paul  at  five  o'clock,  to 
milk  the  cows  and  perform  other  chores.  He  himself  did  not 
rise  till  an  hour  later.  During  Paul's  sickness,  he  was  obliged 
to  take  his  place,  —  a  thing  he  did  not  relish  overmuch.  Now 
that  our  hero  had  recovered,  he  gladly  prepared  to  indulge 
himself  in  an  extra  nap. 

**  Paul!  "  called  Mr.  Mudge  from  the  bottom  of  the  stair- 
case leading  up  into  the  attic,  **  it's  five  o'clock ;  time  you  were 
down  stairs." 

Mr.  Mudge  waited  for  an  answer,  but  none  came. 

•*  Paul !  "  repeated  Mr.  Mudge  in  a  louder  tone,  "  it  'a  time 
to  get  up ;  tumble  out  there." 

Again  there  was  no  answer. 

At  first,  Mv.  Mudge  thought  it  might  be  in  consequence  of 
Paul's  sleeping  so  soundly,  but  on  his  listening  attentively,  he 
could  not  distinguish  the  deep  and  regular  breathing  which 
usually  accompanies  such  slumber. 

"  He  must  be  sullen,"  he  concluded,  with  a  feeling  of  irri- 
tation.    * '  If  he  is,  I  '11    teach  him  "  — 

Without  taking  time  to  finish  the  sentence,  he  bounded  up 
the  rickety  staircase,  and  turned  towards  the  bed  with  the  in- 
tention of  giving  our  hero  a  smart  shaking. 

He  looked  with  astonishment  at  the  empty  bed.      **  la  it 

6 


62  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

possible,"  he  thought,  **that  Paul  has  already  got  up?  He 
isn't  apt  to  do  so  before  he  is  called." 

At  this  juncture,  Mrs.  Mudge,  surprised  at  her  husband's 
prolonged  absence,  called  from  below,  **Mr.  Mudge  !" 

''Well,  wife?" 

**  What,  in  the  name  of  wonder,  keeps  you  up  there  so 
long.f>" 

••Just  come  up  and  see." 

Mrs.  Mudge  did  come  up.  Her  husband  pointed  to  the 
empty  bed. 

'•  What  do  you  think  of  that?  "  he  asked. 

••What  about  it?"  she  inquired,  not  quite  comprehending. 

•'  About  that  boy,  Paul.  When  I  called  him  I  got  no 
answer,  so  I  came  up,  and  behold  he  is  among  the  missing." 

••  You  don't  think  he's  run  away,  do  you?"  asked  Mrs. 
Mudge,  startled. 

•'  That  is  more  than  I  know." 

**  I'U  see  if  his  clothes  are  here,"  said  his  wife,  now  fully 
aroused. 

Her  search  was  unavailing.  Paul's  clothes  had  disappeared 
as  mysteriously  as  their  owner. 

••It's  a  clear  case,"  said  Mr.  Mudge,  shaking  his  head; 
*•  he's  gone.  I  wouldn't  have  lost  him  for  considerable.  He 
was  only  a  boy,  but  1  managed  to  get  as  much  work  out  of  him 
as  a  man.     The  question  is  now,  what  shall  we  do  about  it?" 

*•  He  must  be  pursued,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  with  vehemence, 
••I'll  have  him  back  if  it  costs  me  twenty  dollars.  I '11  tell 
you  what,  husband,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  sudden  light  break- 
ing in  upon  her,  •  •  if  there 's  anybody  in  this  house  knows 
where  he's  gone,  it  is  Aunt  Lucy  Lee.  Only  last  week  I 
caught  her  knitting  him  a  pair  of  stockings.  I  might  have 
known  what  it  meant  if  I  had  n't  been  a  fool." 

**  Ha,  ha !  So  you  might,  if  you  had  n't  been  a  fool ! "  echoed 
a  mocking  voice. 

Turning  with  sudden  anger,  Mrs.  Mudge  beheld  tho  face  of 
the  crazy  girl  peering  up  at  her  from  below. 


PAUL   PRESCOTT's   CHARGE.  63 

This  turned  lier  thoughts  into  a  different  channel. 

"I'll  teach  you  what  I  am,"  she  exclaimed,  wrathfully  de- 
scending the  stairs  more  rapidly  than  she  had  mounted  them, 
"  and  if  you  know  anything  about  the  little  scamp,  111  have  it 
out  of  you." 

The  girl  narrowly  succeeded  in  eluding  the  grasp  of  her  pur- 
suer. But,  alas  !  for  Mrs.  Mudge.  In  her  impetuosity  she 
lost  her  footing,  and  fell  backward  into  a  pail  of  water  which 
had  been  brought  up  the  night  before  and  set  in  the  entry  for 
purposes  of  ablution.  More  wrathful  than  ever,  Mrs.  Mudge 
bounced  into  her  room  and  sat  down  in  her  dripping  garments 
in  a  very  uncomfortable  frame  of  mind.  As  for  Paul,  she  felt 
a  personal  dislike  for  him,  and  was  not  sorry  on  some  accounts 
to  have  him  out  of  the  house.  The  knowledge,  however,  that 
he  had  in  a  manner  defied  her  authority  by  running  away,  filled 
her  with  an  earnest  desire  to  get  him  back,  if  only  to  prove  that 
it  was  not  to  be  defied  with  impunity. 

Hoping  to  elicit  some  information  from  Aunt  Lucy,  who, 
she  felt  sure,  was  in  Paul's  confidence,  she  paid  her  a  visit. 

••  Well,  here's  pretty  goings  on,"  she  commenced,  abruptly. 
Finding  that  Aunt  Lucy  manifested  no  curiosity  on  the  sub- 
ject, she  continued,  in  a  significant  tone,  **0f  course,  you  don't 
know  anything  about  it." 

*♦  I  can  tell  better  when  I  know  what  you  refer  to,"  said  the 
old  lady,  calmly. 

'*  O,  you  are  very  ignorant  all  at  once.  I  suppose  you 
did  n't  know  Paul  Prescott  had  run  away  ?  " 

"I  am  not  surprised,"  said  the  old  lady,  in  the  same  quiet 
manner. 

Mrs.  Mudge  had  expected  a  show  of  astonishment,  and  this 
calmness  disconcerted  her. 

*'  You  are  not  surprised !  "  she  retorted.  •*  I  presume  not, 
since  you  knew  all  about  it  beforehand.  That 's  why  you  were 
knitting  him  some  stockings.     Deny  it,  if  you  dare." 

*'  I  have  no  disposition  to  deny  it." 


64  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

**  You  have  n't ! "  exclaimed  the  questioner,  almost  struck 
dumb  with  this  audacity. 

**No,"  said  Aunt  Lucy,  "Why  should  I?  There  was 
no  particular  inducement  for  him  to  stay  here.  Wherever 
he  goes,  I  hope  he  will  meet  with  good  friends  and  good 
treatment." 

**As  much  as  to  say  he  didn't  find  them  here.  Is  that 
nrhat  you  mean  ?  " 

•*  I  have  no  charges  to  bring." 

"But  I  have,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  her  eyes  lighting  with 
malicious  satisfaction.  "Last  night  you  missed  a  ten  dollar 
gold  piece,  which  you  say  was  stolen  from  you.  This  morning 
it  appears  that  Paul  Prescott  has  run  away.  I  charge  him  with 
the  theft." 

**  You  do  not,  can  not  believe  this,"  said  the  old  lady, 
uneasily. 

**  Of  course  I  do,"  returned  Mrs.  Mudge,  triumphantly,  per- 
ceiving her  advantage.  **  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,  and  when  we 
get  the  boy  back,  he  shall  be  made  to  confess  it." 

Aunt  Lucy  looked  troubled,  much  to  the  gratification  of  Mrs. 
Mudge.  It  was  but  for  a  short  time,  however.  Rising  from 
her  seat,  she  stood  confronting  Mrs,  Mudge,  and  said  quietly, 
but  firmly,  "I  have  no  doubt,  Mrs.  Mudge,  you  are  capable 
of  doing  what  you  say.  I  would  advise  you,  however,  to  pause. 
You  know,  as  well  as  I  do,  that  Paul  is  Incapable  of  this  thefl. 
Even  if  he  were  wicked  enough  to  form  the  idea,  he  would 
have  no  need,  since  it  was  my  intention  to  give  him  this  money. 
Who  did  actually  steal  the  gold,  you  perhaps  know  better  than 
I.  Should  it  be  necessary,  I  shall  not  hesitate  to  say  so.  I 
advise  you  not  to  render  it  necessary." 

The  threat  which  lay  in  these  words  was  understood.  It 
came  with  the  force  of  a  sudden  blow  to  Mrs.  Mudge,  who 
had  supposed  it  would  be  no  difficult  task  to  frighten  and  silence 
Aunt  Lucy.  The  latter  had  always  been  so  yielding  in  all 
matters  relating  to  herself,  that  this  intrepid  championship  of 


PAUL   rPtESCOTT*S   CHAIIGE.  65 

Paul's  interests  was  unlocked  for.  The  tables  were  completely 
turned.  Pale  with  rage,  and  a  mortified  sense  of  having  been 
foiled  with  her  own  weapons,  Mrs.  Mudge  left  the  room. 

Meanwhile  her  husband  milked  the  cows,  and  was  now  oc- 
cupied in  performing  certain  other  duties  that  could  not  be 
postponed,  being  resolved,  immediately  after  breakfast  was  over, 
to  harness  up  and  pursue  the  runaway. 

**  Well,  did  you  get  anything  out  of  the  old  lady?"  he  in- 
quired, as  he  came  from  the  barn  with  the  full  milk-pails. 

**  She  said  she  knew  beforehand  that  he  was  going." 

*'  Eh!"  said  Mr.  Mudge,  pricking  up  his  ears,  "  did  she  say 
where  ?  " 

*'  No,  and  she  wont.  She  knit  him  a  pair  of  stockings  to 
help  him  off,  and  does  n't  pretend  to  deny  it.  She  's  taken  a 
wonderful  fancy  to  the  young  scamp,  and  has  been  as  obstinate 
as  could  be  ever  since  he  has  been  here." 

**  If  I  get  him  back,"  said  Mr.  Mudge,  **  he  shall  have  a 
good  flogging,  if  I  am  able  to  give  him  one,  and  she  shall  be 
present  to  see  it." 

*'  That 's  right,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  approvingly,  '•  when  are 
you  going  to  set  out  after  him  ?  " 

**  Right  off  after  breakfast.  So  be  spry,  and  get  it  ready  as 
soon  as  you  can." 

Under  the  stimulus  of  this  inspiring  motive,  Mrs.  Mudge 
bustled  about  with  new  energy,  and  before  many  minutes  the 
meal  was  in  readiness.  It  did  not  take  long  to  despatch  it. 
Immediately  afterwards,  Mr.  Mudge  harnessed  up,  as  he  had 
determined,  and  started  off  in  pursuit  of  our  hero. 

In  the  mean  time  the  two  boys  had  walked  leisurely  along, 
conversing  on  various  subjects. 

"  When  you  get  to  the  city,  Paul,"  said  John,  '  *  I  shall  want 
to  hear  from  you.     Will  you  write  to  me  ?  " 

Paul  promised  readily. 
6* 


66  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

**  You  can  direct  to  John  Burgess,  Burrvllle.  The  post- 
master knows  me,  and  I  shall  be  sure  to  get  it." 

*'  I  wish  you  were  going  with  me,"  said  Paul.  **  Sometimes 
when  I  think  that  I  am  all  alone  it  discourages  me.  It  would 
be  so  much  pleasanter  to  have  some  one  with  me." 

**  I  shall  come  some  time,"  said  John,  *'  when  I  am  a  little 
older.  I  heard  father  say  something  the  other  day  about  my 
going  into  a  store  in  the  city.     So  we  may  meet  again." 

'*  I  hope  we  shall." 

They  were  just  turning  a  bend  of  the  road,  when  Paul 
chanced  to  look  backward.  About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  back  he 
descried  a  horse  and  wagon  wearing  a  familiar  look.  Fixing 
his  eyes  anxiously  upon  them,  he  was  soon  made  aware  that  his 
suspicions  were  only  too  well  founded.  It  was  JMr.  Mudge, 
doubtless  in  quest  of  him. 

*•  VVliat  shall  I  do?"  he  asked,  hurriedly  of  his  companion. 

*•  What's  the  matter?" 

This  was  quickly  explained. 

John  was  quickwitted,  and  he  instantly  decided  upon  the 
course  proper  to  be  pursued.  On  either  side  of  the  road  was 
a  growth  of  underbrush  so  thick  as  to  be  almost  impenetrable. 

"  Creep  in  behind  there,  and  be  quick  about  it,"  directed 
John,  "  there  is  no  time  to  lose." 

"There,"  said  he,  after  Paul  had  followed  his  advice,  **  if 
he  can  see  you  now  he  must  have  sharp  eyes." 

*'  Wont  you  come  in  too  ?  " 

**  Not  I,"  said  John,  "  I  am  anxious  to  see  this  Mr.  Mudge, 
since  you  have  told  me  so  much  about  him.  I  hope  he  will 
ask  me  some  questions." 

*♦  What  will  you  tell  him  ?  " 

*•  Trust  me  for  that.     Don't  say  any  more.     He 's  close  by." 


X. 

MR.    MUDGE   MEETS   HIS  MATCH. 

John  lounged  along,  appearing  to  be  very  busily  engaged 
in  making  a  whistle  from  a  slip  of  willow  which  he  had  a  short 
time  before  cut  from  the  tree.  He  purposely  kept  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  road,  apparently  quite  unaware  of  the  approach  of 
the  vehicle,  until  he  was  aroused  by  the  sound  of  a  voice 
behind  him. 

"  Be  a  little  more  careful,  if  you  don't  want  to  get  run 

over." 

John  assumed  a  look  of  surprise,  and  with  comic  terror  ran 

to  the  side  of  the  road. 

Mr.  Mudge  checked  his  horse,  and  came  to  a  sudden  halt. 

**Isay,  youngster,  have  n't  you  seen  a  boy  of  about  your 
own  size  walking  along,  with  a  bundle  in  his  hand  ?  " 

"Tied  up  in  a  red  cotton  handkerchief?  "  inquired  John. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  so,"  said  Mr.  Mudge,  eagerly,  *•  Where  did 
you  "  — 

♦♦  With  a  blue  cloth  cap  ?  " 

**  Yes,  where  "  — 

**  Gray  jacket  and  pants  ?  ^ 

* '  Yss ,  y es .    Where — " 

"  With  a  patch  on  one  knee  ?  " 

"Yes,  the  very  one.  When  did  you  see  him?"  said  Mr. 
Mudge,  getting  ready  to  start  his  horse. 

*♦  Perhaps  it  isn't  the  one  you  mean,"  continued  John,  who 


68  PAUL  PKESCOTT*S   CHARGE. 

took  a  mischievous  delight  in  playing  with  the  evident  im* 
patience  of  IVIr.  Mudge ;  "  the  boy  that  I  saw  looked  thin,  — as 
if  he  had  n't  had  enough  to  eat." 

JNir.  Mudge  winced  slightly,  and  looked  at  John  with  some 
suspicion.  But  John  put  on  so  innocent  and  artless  a  look 
that  Mr.  Mudge  at  once  dismissed  the  idea  that  there  was  any 
covert  meaning  in  what  he  said.  Meanwhile  Paul,  from  his 
hiding-place  in  the  bushes,  had  listened  with  anxiety  to  the 
foregoing  colloquy.  When  John  described  his  appearance 
so  minutely,  lie  was  seized  with  a  sudden  apprehension  that  the 
boy  meant  to  betray  him.  But  he  dismissed  it  instantly.  In 
his  own  singleness  of  heart  he  could  not  believe  such  duplicity 
possible.  Still,  it  was  not  without  anxiety  that  he  waited^  to 
hear  what  would  be  said  next. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Mudge,  slowly,  **  I  don't  know  but  he 
is  a  little  peaked,  lie 's  been  sick  lately,  and  that 's  took  off 
his  flesh." 

'*  Was  he  your  son  ?  "  asked  John,  in  a  sympathizing  tone ; 
**  jou  must  feel  quite  troubled  about  him." 

He  looked  askance  at  Mr.  Mudge,  enjoying  that  gentleman's 
growing  irritation. 

"My  son?  No.     Where"  — 

"Nephew,  perhaps?"  suggested  the  imperturbable  John, 
leisurely  continuing  the  manufacture  of  a  whistle. 

"No,  I  tell  you,  nothing  of  the  kind.  But  I  can't  sit 
waiting  here." 

**  O,  I  hope  you  '11  excuse  me,"  said  John,  apologetically. 
**  I  hope  you  wont  stop  on  my  account.  I  did  n't  know  you 
were  in  a  hurry." 

"  Well,  you  know  it  now," said  Mr.  Mudge,  crossly.  "  When 
and  where  did  you  see  the  boy  you  have  described  ?  I  am  in 
pursuit  of  him." 

"  Has  he  run  away  ?  "  inquired  John  in  assumed  surprise. 

•*  Are  you  going  to  answer  my  question  or  not  ?  "  demanded 
Mr.  Mudge,  angrily. 


PAUL  PRESCOTT's   CHARGE.  69 

**  O,  I  hag  your  pardon.  I  should  n't  have  asked  so  many 
questions,  only  I  thought  he  was  a  nice-looking  boy,  and  I  felt 
interested  in  him." 

**He's  a  young  scamp,"  said  Mr.  Mudge,  impetuously, 
"and  it  s  ray  belief  that  you're  another.  Now  answer  my 
question.     When  and  where  did  you  see  this  boy  ?  " 

This  time  Mr.  Mudge's  menacing  look  warned  John  that  he 
had  gone  far  enough.  Accordingly  he  answered  promptly, 
**  He  passed  by  our  farm  this  morning." 

**  How  far  back  is  that?" 

**  About  three  miles." 

• '  Did  he  stop  there  ?  " 

**  Yes,  he  stopped  a  while  to  rest." 

*'  Have  you  seen  him  since  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  saw  him  about  half  a  mile  back." 

"On  this  road?" 

*'  Yes,  but  he  turned  up  the  road  that  branches  off  there," 

"  Just  what  I  wanted  to  find  out,"  said  Mr.  Mudge,  in  a 
tone  of  satisfaction,  "I  'm  sure  to  catch  him." 

So  saying,  he  turned  about  and  put  his  horse  to  its  utmost 
speed,  determined  to  make  up  for  lost  time.  When  he  was 
fairly  out  of  sight,  Paul  came  forth  from  his  hiding-place. 

"  How  could  you  do  so  !  "  he  asked  in  a  reproachful  tone. 

"Could  I  do  what?"  asked  John,  turning  a  laughing  face 
towards  Paul.  "Didn't  I  tell  old  Mudge  the  exact  truth? 
You  Ivnow  you  did  turn  up  that  road.  To  be  sure  you  did  n't 
go  two  rods  before  turning  back.  But  he  did  n't  stop  to  ask 
about  that .  If  he  had  n't  been  in  such  a  hurry,  perhaps  I  should 
have  told  him.     Success  to  him  ! " 

"  You  can't  think  how  I  trembled  when  you  described  me  so 
particularly." 

"You  didn't  think  I  would  betray  you?"  said  John, 
quickly. 

"  No,  but  T  was  afraid  you  would  venture  too  far,  and  get 
Ufc  both  into  trouble." 


70  PAUL  PRESCOTT'S  CmiEGE. 

"Trust  me  for  that,  Paul;  I've  got  my  eyes  wide  open, 
and  aint  easily  caught.  But  was  n't  it  fun  to  see  old  Mudge 
fuming  while  I  kept  him  waiting.  What  would  he  have  said  if 
he  had  known  the  bird  was  so  near  at  hand  ?  He  looked  foolish 
enough  when  I  asked  him  if  you  were  his  son." 

John  sat  down  and  gave  vent  to  his  pent-up  laughter  which 
he  had  felt  obliged  to  restrain  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Mudge. 
He  laughed  so  heartily  that  Paul,  notwithptanding  his  recent 
fright  and  anxiety,  could  not  resist  the  inlection.  Together 
they  laughed,  till  the  very  air  seemed  vocal  with  merriment. 

John  was  the  first  to  recover  his  gravity. 

*'  I  am  sorry,  Paul,"  he  said,  *'  but  I  raust  bid  you  good-by. 
They  will  be  missing  me  from  the  house.  I  am  glad  I  have 
got  acquainted  with  you,  and  I  hope  I  fthitll  see  you  again  some 
time  before  very  long.     Good-by,  Paul." 

*'  Good-by,  John." 

The  two  boys  shook  hands  and  pad;ed.  One  went  in  one 
direction,  the  other  in  the  opposite.  Each  looked  back  re- 
peatedly till  the  other  was  out  of  sight.  Then  came  over  Paul 
once  more  a  feeling  of  sadness  and  desolation,  which  the  high 
spirits  of  his  companion  had  for  the  time  kept  off.  Occasion- 
ally he  cast  a  glance  backwards,  to  make  sure  that  Mr.  Mudge 
was  not  following  him.  But  Paul  had  no  cause  to  fear  on  that 
score.  The  object  of  his  dread  was  already  some  miles  distant 
in  a  different  direction. 

For  an  hour  longer,  Paul  trudged  on.  He  met  few  persons, 
the  road  not  being  very  much  frequented.  He  was  now  at 
least  twelve  miles  from  his  starting-place,  and  began  to  feel 
very  sensibly  the  effects  of  heat  and  fatigue  combined.  He 
threw  himself  down  upon  the  grass  under  the  overhanging 
branches  of  an  apple-tree  to  rest.  After  his  long  walk  repose 
seemed  delicious,  and  with  a  feeling  of  exquisite  enjoyment  he 
stretched  himself  out  at  full  length  upon  the  soft  turf,  and 
closed  his  eyes. 

Insensibly  he  fell  asleep.     How  long  he  slept  he  could  not 


PAUL   PRESCOTT's   CHARGE.  71 

tell.  He  was  finally  roused  from  his  slumber  by  something 
cold  touching  his  cheek.  Starting  up  he  rubbed  his  eyes  in 
bewilderment,  and  gradually  became  aware  that  this  something 
was  the  nose  of  a  Newfoundland  dog,  whose  keen  scent  had 
enabled  him  to  discover  the  whereabouts  of  the  small  stock  of 
provisions  with  which  Paul  had  been  supplied  by  his  late  com- 
panion. Fortunately  he  awoke  in  time  to  save  its  becoming 
the  prey  of  its  canine  visitor. 

'•  I  reckon  you  came  nigh  losing  your  dinner,"  fell  upon  his 
ears  in  a  rough  but  hearty  tone. 

At  the  same  time  he  heard  the  noise  of  wheels,  and  looking 
up,  beheld  a  specimen  of  a  class  well  known  throughout  New 
England  —  a  tin  pedler.  He  was  seated  on  a  cart  liberally 
stocked  with  articles  of  tin  ware.  From  the  rear  depended  two 
immense  bags,  one  of  which  served  as  a  receptacle  for  white 
rags,  the  other  for  bits  of  calico  and  whatever  else  may  fall 
under  the  designation  of  '*  colored."  His  shop,  for  such  it  was, 
was  drawn  at  a  brisk  pace  by  a  stout  horse,  who  in  this  respect 
presented  a  contrast  to  his  master,  who  was  long  and  lank. 
The  pedler  himself  was  a  man  of  perhaps  forty,  with  a  face  in 
which  shrewdness  and  good  humor  seemed  alike  indicated. 
Take  him  for  all  in  all,  you  might  travel  some  distance  without 
falling  in  with  a  more  complete  specimen  of  the  Yankee. 

"  So  you  came  nigh  losing  your  dinner,"  he  repeated,  in  a 
pleasant  tone. 

**  Yes,"  said  Paul,  '*  I  got  tired  and  fell  asleep,  and  I  don't 
know  when  I  should  have  waked  up  but  for  your  dog." 

"Yes,  Boney's  got  a  keen  scent  for  provisions,"  laughed 
the  pedler.  *'  He  's  a  little  graspin',  like  his  namesake.  You 
see  his  real  name  is  Bonaparte ;  we  only  call  him  Boney,  for 
short." 

Meanwhile  he  had  stopped  his  horse.  He  was  about  to  start 
afi'esh,  when  a  thought  struck  him. 

"Maybe  you're  goin'  my  way,  said  he,  turning  to  Paul;  "if 
you  are,  you  're  welcome  to  a  ride.'* 


72  PAUL  trescott's  charge. 

Paul  was  verj'glad  to  accept  the  invitation.  He  clamberoU 
into  the  cart,  and  took  a  seat  behind  the  pedler,  while  Boney, 
who  took  his  recent  disappointment  very  good-naturedly,  jog- 
ged on  contentedly  behind. 

**How  far  are  you  goin'?"  asked  Paul's  new  acquaintance, 
as  he  whipped  up  his  horse. 

Paul  felt  a  little  embarrassed.  If  he  had  been  acquainted 
■with  the  names  of  any  of  the  villages  on  the  route  he  might 
easily  have  answered.  As  it  was,  only  one  name  occurred  to 
him. 

*•  I  think,"  said  he,  with  some  hesitation,  *'  that  I  shall  go  to 
New  York." 

**  New  York !  "  repeated  the  pedler,  with  a  whistle  expres- 
sive of  his  astonishment.  **  Well,  you've  a  journey  before 
you.     Got  any  relations  there  ?  " 

♦*No." 

*'  No  uncles,  aunts,  cousins,  nor  nothing?" 

Paul  shook  his  head. 

"Then  what  makes  you  go?  Haven't  run  away  from 
your  father  and  mother,  hey  ? "  asked  the  pedler,  with  a 
knowing  look. 

'*  I  have  no  father  nor  mother,'*  said  Paul,  sadly  enough. 

**  Well,  you  had  somebody  to  take  care  of  you,  I  calculate. 
Where  did  you  live  ?  '* 

**  If  I  tell  you,  you  won't  carry  me  back?"  said  Paul, 
anxiously. 

'•  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  Ve  got  too  much  business  on  hand  for 
that." 

Relieved  by  this  assurance,  Paul  told  his  story,  encouraged 
thereto  by  frequent  questions  from  his  companion,  who  seemed 
to  take  a  lively  interest  in  the  adventures  of  his  young  com- 
panion. 

"That's  a  capital  trick  you  played  on  old  Mudge,"  he  said 
with  a  hearty  laugh  which  almost  made  the  tins  rattle.  **  I 
don't  blame  vou  a  bit  for  running  away.  I  've  got  a  story  to 
tell  vou  about  JNirs.  Mudge.     She 's  a  regular  skinflint." 


XI. 


WAYSIDE    GOSSIP. 

This  was  the  pedler's  promised  story  about  Mrs.  Mudge. 

**  The  last  time  I  was  round  that  way,  I  stopped,  thinking 
maybe  they  might  have  some  rags  to  dispose  of  for  tin-ware. 
The  old  lady  seemed  glad  to  see  me,  and  pretty  soon  she 
brought  down  a  lot  of  white  rags.  I  thought  they  seemed 
quite  heavy  for  their  bulk,  —  howsomever,  I  was  n^t  looking  for 
any  tricks,  and  I  let  it  go.  By-and-by,  when  I  happened  to 
be  ransacking  one  of  the  bags,  I  came  across  half  a  dozen 
pounds  or  more  of  old  iron  tied  up  in  a  white  cloth.  That  let 
the  cat  out  of  the  bag.  I  knew  why  they  were  so  heavy,  then. 
I  reckon  I  shan't  call  on  Mrs.  Mudge  next  time  I  go  by." 

'*  So  you've  run  off,"  he  continued,  after  a  pause,  *'  I  like 
your  spunk,  — just  what  I  should  have  done  myself.  But  tell 
me  how  you  managed  to  get  oflf  without  the  old  chap's  finding 
it  out." 

Paul  related  such  of  his  adventures  as  he  had  not  before  told, 
his  companion  listening  with  marked  approval. 

•'I  wish  I  'd  a  been  there,"  he  said.  **  I'd  have  given  fifty 
cents,  right  out,  to  see  how  old  Mudge  looked ;  I  calc'late  he 's 
pretty  well  tired  with  his  wild-goose  chase  by  this  time." 

It  was  now  twelve  o'clock,  and  both  the  travellers  began  to 
feel  the  pangs  of  hunger. 

"It's  about  time  to  bait,  I  calc'late,"  remarked  thepedler. 

The  unsophisticated  reader  is  informed  that  the  word  "  bait/ 

7 


74  PAUL  irescott's  charge. 

in  New  England  phraseology,  is  applied  to  taking  lunch  of 
dining. 

At  this  point  a  green  lane  opened  out  of  the  public  road, 
skirted  on  either  side  by  a  row  of  trees.  Carpeted  with  green, 
it  made  a  very  pleasant  dining-room.  A  red-and-white  heifer 
browsing  at  a  little  distance  looked  up  from  her  meal  and  sur- 
veyed the  intruders  with  mild  attention,  but  apparently  satisfied 
that  they  contemplated  no  invasion  of  her  rights,  resumed  her 
agreeable  employment.  Over  an  irregular  stone  wall  our 
travellers  looked  into  a  thrifty  apple-orchard  laden  with  fruit. 
They  halted  beneath  a  spreading  chestnut-tree  which  towered 
above  its  neighbors,  and  offered  them  a  grateful  shelter  from 
the  noonday  sun. 

From  the  box  underneath  the  seat,  the  pedler  took  out  a 
loaf  of  bread,  a  slice  of  butter,  and  a  tin  pail  full  of  doughnuts. 
Paul,  on  his  side,  brought  out  his  bread  and  gingerbread. 

'*  I  most  generally  carry  round  my  own  provisions,"  re- 
marked the  pedler,  between  two  mouthfuls.  **  It's  a  good  deal 
cheaper  and  more  convenient,  too.  Help  yourself  to  the 
doughnuts.  I  always  calculate  to  have  some  with  me.  I  'd  give 
more  for  'em  any  day  than  for  rich  cake  that  aint  fit  for  anybody. 
My  mother  used  to  beat  everybody  in  the  neighborhood  on 
making  doughnuts.  She  made  'em  so  good  that  we  never 
knew  when  to  stop  eating.  You  would  n't  hardly  believe  it, 
but,  when  I  was  a  little  shaver,  I  remember  eating  twenty-three 
doughnuts  at  one  time.     Pretty  nigh  killed  me." 

"  I  should  think  it  might,"  said  Paul,  laughing. 

*' Mother  got  so  scared  that  she  vowed  she  wouldn't  fry 
another  for  three  months,  but  I  guess  she  kinder  lost  the  run 
of  the  almanac,  for  in  less  than  a  week  she  turned  out  about 
a  bushel  more." 

All  this  time  the  pedler  was  engaged  in  practically  refuting 
the  saying,  that  a  man  cannot  do  two  things  at  once.  With  a 
little  assistance  from  Paul,  the  stock  of  doughnuts  on  which  he 
had  been   lavishing  encomiums,   diminished  rapidly.     It  was 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  75 

evident  that  his  attachment  to  this  homely  article  of  diet  was 
quite  as  strong  as  ever. 

*'  Do  I't  be  afraid  of  them,"  said  he,  seeing  that  Paul  de- 
sisted from  his  efforts,  **I've  got  plenty  more  in  the  box." 

Paul  signified  that  his  appetite  was  already  appeased. 

*'  Then  we  might  as  well  be  jogging  on.  Hey,  Goliah," 
said  he,  addressing  the  horse,  who,  with  an  air  of  great  con- 
tent, had  been  browsing  while  his  master  was  engaged  in  a 
similar  manner.  *'  Queer  name  for  a  horse,  is  n't  it  ?  I  wanted 
something  out  of  the  common  way,  so  I  asked  mother  for  a 
name,  and  she  gave  me  that.  She  's  great  on  Scripture  names, 
mother  is.  She  gave  one  to  every  one  of  her  children.  It 
did  n't  make  much  difference  to  her  what  they  were  as  long  as 
they  were  in  the  Bible.  I  believe  she  used  to  open  the  Bible 
at  random,  and  take  the  first  name  she  happened  to  come  across. 
There  are  eight  of  us,  and  nary  a  decent  name  in  the  lot.  My 
oldest  brother's  name  is  Abimelech.  Then  there's  Pharaoh,  and 
Ishmael,  and  Jonadab,  for  the  boys,  and  Leah  and  Naomi,  for 
the  girls  ;  but  my  name  beats  all.     You  could  n't  guess  it  ?  " 

Paul  shook  his  head. 

**  I  don't  believe  you  could,"  said  the  pedler,  shaking  hia 
head  in  comic  indignation.  *' It's  Jehoshaphat.  Aint  that  a 
respectable  name  for  the  son  of  Christian  parents  ?  " 

Paul  laughed. 

**  It  wouldn't  be  so  bad,"  continued  the  pedler,  **  if  my  other 
name  was  longer ;  but  Jehoshaphat  seems  rather  a  long  handle 
to  put  before  Stubbs.  I  can't  say  I  feel  particularly  proud  of 
the  name,  though  for  use  it  '11  do  as  well  as  any  other.  At  any 
rate,  it  aint  quite  so  bad  as  the  name  mother  pitched  on  for  my 
youngest  sister,  who  was  lucky  enough  to  die  before  she  needed 
a  name." 

"  What  was  it?  "  inquired  Paul,  really  curious  to  know  what 
name  could  be  considered  less  desirable  than  Jehoshaphat. 

"  It  was  Jezebel,"  responded  the  pedler.  *'  Everybody  told 
mothf  r '  t  would  never  do ;  but  she  was  kind  of  superstitious 


7G  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

about  It,  because  that  was  the  first  name  she  came  to  in  the 
Bible,  and  so  she  thought  it  was  the  Lord's  will  that  that  name 
should  be  given  to  the  child." 

As  Mr.  Stubbs  finished  his  disquisition  upon  names,  there 
came  in  sight  a  small  house,  dark  and  discolored  with  age  and 
neglect.     He  pointed  this  out  to  Paul  with  his  whip-handle. 

"That,"  said  he,  "is  where  old  Keziah  Onthank  lives. 
Ever  heard  of  him  ?  " 

Paul  had  not. 

*'  He's  the  oldest  man  in  these  parts,"  pursued  his  loquacious 
companion.  "There's  some  folks  that  seem  a  dy In'  all  the 
time,  and  for  all  that  manage  to  outlive  half  the  }  oung  folks 
in  the  neighborhood.  Old  Keziah  Onthank  is  a  complete  case 
in  p'Int.  As  long  ago  as  when  I  was  cutting  my  teeth  he  was 
so  old  that  nobody  know'd  how  old  he  was.  He  was  so  bowed 
over  that  he  could  n't  see  himself  in  the  looking-glass  unless 
you  put  it  on  the  floor,  and  I  guess  even  then  what  he  saw 
would  n't  pay  him  for  his  trouble.  He  was  always  ailin'  some 
way  or  other.  Now  it  was  the  rheumatism,  now  the  palsy, 
and  then  again  the  asthma.     He  had  that  awful. 

"  He  lived  in  the  same  tumble-down  old  shanty  we  have  just 
passed,  —  so  poor  that  nobody  'd  take  the  gift  of  It.  People 
said  that  he  'd  orter  go  to  the  poorhouse,  so  that  when  he 
was  sick  —  which  was  pretty  much  all  the  time — he'd  have 
somebody  to  take  care  of  him.  But  he  'd  got  kinder  attached 
to  the  old  place,  seein'  he  was  born  there,  and  never  lived  any- 
where else,  and  go  he  would  n't. 

"Everybody  expected  he  v/as  near  his  end,  and  nobody 'd 
have  been  surprl^^ed  to  hear  of  bis  death  at  any  minute.  But 
it 's  strange  how  some  folks  are  determined  to  live  on,  as  I 
said  before.  So  Keziah,  though  he  looked  so  old  when  I  was 
a  boy  that  It  did  n't  seem  as  If  he  could  look  any  older,  kept 
on  livin,  and  livln',  and,  arter  I  got  married  to  Betsy  Sprague, 
he  was  livin'  still. 

"  One  day,  I  remember  I  was  passin'  by  the  old  man's  shanty, 


PAUL  PRESCOTTS   CHARGE.  77 

when  I  heard  a  dreadful  groanin',  and  thinks  I  to  m}'self,  *  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  the  old  man  was  on  his  last  legs.'  So  In  I 
bolted.  There  he  was,  to  be  sure,  a  lyin',  on  the  bed,  all  curled 
up  into  a  heap,  breathin'  dreadful  hard,  and  lookin'  as  white  and 
pale  as  any  ghost.  I  did  n't  know  exactly  what  to  do,  so  I 
went  and  got  some  water,  but  he  motioned  it  away,  and 
wouldn't  drink  it,  but  kept  on  groanin'. 

** 'He  must  n't  be  left  here  to  die  without  any  assistance,' 
thinks  I,  so  I  ran  off  as  fast  I  could  to  find  the  doctor. 

•'  I  found  him  eatin'  dinner  — 

*'Come  quick,"  says  I,  "to  old  Keziah  Onthank's.  He's 
dyin',  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Jehoshaphat." 

••  Well,"  said  the  doctor,  "die  or  no  die,  I  can't  come  till 
I  've  eaten  dinner." 

**  But  he 's  dyin',  doctor." 

*♦  Oh,  nonsense.  Talk  of  old  Keziah  Onthank's  dyin'.  He'll 
live  longer  than  I  shall." 

**I  recollect  I  thought  the  doctor  very  unfeelin'  to  talk  so 
of  a  fellow  creetur,  just  stepping  into  eternity,  as  a  body  may 
say.  However,  it 's  no  use  drivin'  a  horse  that 's  made  up  his 
mind  he  wont  go,  so  although  I  did  think  the  doctor  dreadful 
deliberate  about  eatin'  his  dinner  (he  always  would  take  half 
an  hour  for  it) ,  I  did  n't  dare  to  say  a  word  for  fear  he  would  n't 
come  at  all.  You  see  the  doctor  was  dreadful  independent, 
and  was  bent  on  havin'  his  own  way,  pretty  much,  though  for 
that  matter  I  think  it's  the  case  with  most  folks.  However,  to 
come  back  to  my  story,  I  did  n't  feel  particularly  comfortable 
while  I  was  waitin'  his  motions. 

*'  After  a  long  while  the  doctor  got  ready.  I  was  in  such  a 
hurry  that  I  actlUy  pulled  him  along,  he  walked  so  slow ;  but 
he  only  laughed,  and  I  could  n't  help  thinkin'  that  doctorin'  had 
a  hardinin'  effect  on  the  heart.  I  was  determined  if  ever  I 
fell  sick  I  would  n't  send  for  him. 

*•  At  last  we  got  there.  I  went  in  all  of  a  tremble,  and  crept 
to  the  bed,  thinkin'  I  should  see  his  dead  body.     But  he 


78  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

wasn't  there  at  all.      I  felt  a  little  bothered,  you'd  better 
believe." 

*'  Well,"  said  the  doctor,  turning  to  me  with  a  smile,  *'  what 
do  you  think  now  ?  " 

•'  I  don't  know  what  to  think,"  said  I. 

•*  Then  I  '11  help  you,"  said  he. 

**  So  sayin,  he  took  me  to  the  winder,  and  what  do  you  think 
I  see  ?  As  sure  as  I  'm  alive,  there  was  the  old  man  in  the 
back  yard,  a  squattin'  down  and  pickin'  up  chips." 

**  And  is  he  still  living  ?  " 

**  Yes,  or  he  was  when  I  come  along  last.  The  doctor's 
been  dead  these  ten  years.  He  told  me  old  Keziah  would 
outlive  him,  but  I  did  n't  believe  him.  I  should  n't  be  surprised 
if  he  lived  forever." 

Paul  listened  with  amused  interest  to  this  and  other  stories 
with  which  his  companion  beguiled  the  way.  They  served 
to  divert  his  mind  from  the  realities  of  his  condition,  and  the 
uncertainty  which  hung  over  his  worldly  prospects. 


xn. 

ON    THE   BRINK  OF    DISCOVERY 

•*  If  you're  in  no  great  hurry  to  go  to  New  York,"  said  the 
pedler,  "  I  should  like  to  have  you  stay  with  me  for  a  day  or  two. 
I  live  about  twenty-five  miles  from  here,  straight  ahead,  so  it  will 
be  on  your  way.  I  always  manage  to  get  home  by  Saturday 
night  if  it  is  any  way  possible.  It  does  n't  seem  comfortable 
to  be  away  Sunday.  As  to-day  is  Friday,  I  shall  get  there  to- 
morrow.   So  you  can  lie  over  a  day  and  rest  yourself." 

Paul  felt  grateful  for  this  unexpected  invitation.  It  lifted 
quite  a,  load  from  his  mind,  since,  as  the  day  declined,  certain 
anxious  thoughts  as  to  where  he  should  find  shelter,  had  ob- 
truded themselves.  Even  now,  the  same  trouble  would  be  ex- 
perienced on  Monday  night,  but  it  is  the  characteristic  of 
youth  to  pay  httle  regard  to  anticipated  difficulties  as  long  as 
the  present  is  provided  for. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  pedler  neglected  his  busi- 
ness on  account  of  his  companion.  On  the  road  he  had  been 
travelling  the  houses  were  few  and  far  between.  He  had, 
therefore,  but  few  calls  to  make.  Paul  remarked,  however, 
that  when  he  did  call  he  seldom  failed  to  sell  something. 

♦*  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Stubbs,  on  being  interrogated,  "I  make 
it  a  p'int  to  sell  something,  if  it 's  no  more  than  a  tin  dipper.  I 
find  some  hard  cases  sometimes,  and  sometimes  I  have  to  give 
it  up  altogether.  I  can't  quite  come  up  to  a  friend  of  mine, 
Daniel  Watson,  who  used  te  be  in  the  same  line  of  business. 


80  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

I  never  knew  him  to  stop  at  a  place  without  selling  some- 
thing. He  had  a  good  deal  of  judgment,  Daniel  had,  and 
knew  just  when  to  use  *  soft  sodder,'  and  when  not  to.  On 
the  road  that  he  travelled  there  lived  a  widow  woman,  who  had 
the  reputation  of  being  as  ugly,  cross-grained  a  critter  as  ever 
lived.  People  used  to  say  that  it  was  enough  to  turn  milk 
sour  for  her  even  to  look  at  it.  Well,  it  so  happened  that 
Daniel  had  never  called  there.  One  night  he  was  boasting 
that  he  never  called  at  a  house  without  driving  a  bargain,  when 
one  of  the  company  asked  him,  with  a  laugh,  if  he  had  ever  sold 
the  widow  any  thing. 

*' Why,  no,"  said  Daniel,  "I  never  called  there;  butlVe 
no  doubt  I  could." 

**  What  11  you  bet  of  it?" 

**  I'm  not  a  betting  man,"  said  Daniel,  "but  I  feel  so  sure 
of  it  that  I  don't  mind  risking  five  dollars." 

**  Agreed." 

**  The  next  morning  Daniel  drove  leisurely  up  to  the  widow's 
door  and  knocked.  She  had  a  great  aversion  to  pedlers,  and 
declared  they  were  cheats,  every  one  of  them.  She  was  busy 
sweeping  when  Daniel  knocked.  She  came  to  the  door  in  a 
dreadful  hurry,  hoping  it  might  be  an  old  widower  in  the 
neighborhood  that  she  was  trying  to  catch.  When  she  saw 
how  much  she  was  mistaken  she  looked  as  black  as  a  thunder- 
cloud. 

"Want  any  tin  ware  to-day,  ma'am?"  inquired  Daniel, 
noways  discomposed. 

**  No,  sir,"  snapped  she. 

"Got  all  kinds,  —  warranted  the  best  in  the  market. 
Couldn't  I  sell  you  something? " 

"  Not  a  single  thing,"  said  she,  preparing  to  shut  the  door; 
but  Daniel,  knowing  all  would  then  be  lost,  stepped  in  before  she 
could  shut  it  quite  to,  and  began  to  name  over  some  of  the 
articles  he  had  in  his  wagon. 

"You  may  talk  till  doomsday,"  said  the  widow,  as  mad  aa 


PAUL   TRESCOTT's   CHARGE.  81 

could  be,  **anrl  It  wont  do  a  particle  of  good.  Now,  yau  Ve 
got  }our  answer,  and  you'd  better  leave  the  house  before  you 
are  driven  out." 

"Brooms,  brushes,  lamps" — 

**  Here  the  widow,  who  had  been  trying  to  keep  In  her  anger, 
could  n't  hold  out  any  longer.  She  seized  the  broom  she  had 
been  sweeping  with,  and  brought  It  down  with  a  tremendous 
whack  upon  Daniel's  back.  You  can  Imagine  how  hard  it  was, 
when  I  tell  you  that  the  force  of  the  blow  snapped  the  broom 
in  the  middle.  You  might  have  thought  Daniel  would  resent 
it,  but  he  did  n't  appear  to  notice  It,  though  It  must  have  hurt 
him  awful.  He  picked  up  the  pieces,  and  handing  them,  with  a 
pohte  bow,  to  the  widow,  said,  "Now,  ma'am,  I'm  sure  you 
need  a  new  broom.  I  've  got  some  capital  ones  out  In  the 
cart." 

*'  The  widow  seemed  kind  of  overpowered  by  his  coolness. 
She  hardly  knew  what  to  say  or  what  to  think.  However,  she 
had  broken  her  old  broom,  that  was  certain,  and  must  have  a 
new  one ;  so  when  Daniel  ran  out  and  brought  in  a  bundle  of 
them,  she  picked  out  one  and  paid  for  It  without  saying  a  word ; 
only,  when  Daniel  asked  If  he  might  have  the  pleasure  of  call- 
ing again,  she  looked  a  little  queer,  and  told  hira  that  If  he 
considered  It  a  pleasure,  she  had  no  objection." 

*  *  And  did  he  call  again  ?  " 

*♦  Yes,  whenever  he  went  that  way.  The  widow  was  always 
very  polite  to  him  after  that,  and,  though  she  had  a  mortal  dis- 
like to  pedlers  In  general,  she  was  always  ready  to  trade  with 
him.  Daniel  used  to  say  that  he  gained  his  bet  and  the  widow's 
custom  at  one  blow."" 

They  were  now  descending  a  little  hill  at  the  foot  of  which 
stood  a  country  tavern.  Here  IMr.  Stubbs  declared  his  inten- 
tion of  spending  the  night.  He  drove  into  the  bam,  the  large 
door  of  which  stood  invitingly  open,  and  unharnessed  his  horse, 
taking  especial  care  to  rub  him  down  and  set  before  him  an 
ample  su]3ply  of  provender. 


82  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

**I  always  take  care  of  Goliah  myself,"  said  he.  "He's  a 
good  friend  to  me,  and  it 's  no  more  than  right  that  I  should 
take  good  care  of  him.  Now,  we  '11  go  into  the  house,  and  see 
what  we  can  get  for  supper." 

He  was  surprised  to  see  that  Paul  hung  back,  and  seemed 
disinclined  to  follow. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Mr,  Stubbs,  in  surprise. 
•*  Why  don't  you  come  ?  " 

"Because,"  said  Paul,  looking  embarrassed,  "I've  got 
no  money." 

**Well,  I  have,"  said  Mr.  Stubbs,  "and  that  will  answer 
just  as  well,  so  come  along,  and  don't  be  bashful.  I  'm  about 
as  hungry  as  a  bear,  and  I  guess  you  are  too." 

Before  many  minutes,  Paul  sat  down  to  a  more  bountiful  re- 
past than  he  had  partaken  of  for  many  a  day.  There  were  warm 
biscuits  and  fresh  butter,  such  as  might  please  the  palate  of  an 
epicure,  while  at  the  other  end  of  the  table  was  a  plate  of  cake, 
flanked  on  one  side  by  an  apple-pie,  on  the  other  by  one  of 
pumpkin,  with  its  rich  golden  hue,  such  as  is  to  be  found  in  its 
perfection,  only  in  New  England.  It  will  scarcely  be  doubted 
that  our  hungry  travellers  did  full  justice  to  the  fare  set  before 
them. 

When  they  had  finished,  they  went  into  the  public  room, 
where  were  engaged  some  of  the  village  worthies,  intent 
on  discussing  the  news  and  the  political  questions  of  the  day. 
It  was  a  time  of  considerable  political  excitement,  and  this 
naturally  supplied  the  topic  of  conversation.  In  this  the  pedler 
joined,  for  his  frequent  travel  on  this  route  had  made  him 
familiarly  acquainted  with  many  of  those  present. 

Paul  sat  in  a  corner,  trying  to  feel  interested  in  the  conver- 
sation ;  but  the  day  had  been  a  long  one,  and  he  had  undergone 
an  unusual  amount  of  fatigue.  Gradually,  his  drowsiness  in- 
creased. The  many  voices  fell  upon  his  ears  like  a  lullaby, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  he  was  fast  asleep. 
Early  next  morning  they  were  up  and  on  their  way.    It  was 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  83 

the  second  morning  since  Paul's  departure.  Already  a  sense  of 
freedom  gave  his  spirits  unwonted  elasticity,  and  encouraged 
him  to  hope  for  the  best.  Had  his  knowledge  of  the  future 
been  greater,  his  confidence  might  have  been  less.  But  would 
he  have  been  any  happier  ? 

So  many  miles  separated  hhn  from  his  late  home,  that  he 
supposed  himself  quite  safe  from  detection.  A  slight  circum- 
stance warned  him  that  he  must  still  be  watchful  and  cautious. 

As  they  were  jogging  easily  along,  they  heard  the  noise  of 
wheels  at  a  little  distance.  Paul  looked  up.  To  his  great 
alarm,  he  recognized  in  the  driver  of  the  approaching  vehicle, 
one  of  the  selectmen  of  Wrenville. 

*' What's  the  matter?"  asked  his  companion,  noticing  his 
sudden  look  of  apprehension. 

Paul  quickly  communicated  the  ground  of  his  alarm. 

**  And  you  are  afraid  he  will  want  to  carry  you  back,  are 
you  ?  " 

*♦  Yes." 

*'  Not  a  bit  of  it.  "We  '11  circumvent  the  old  fellow,  unless 
he 's  sharper  than  I  think  he  is.  You  've  only  got  to  do  as  I 
tell  you." 

To  this  Paul  quickly  agreed. 

The  selectman  was  already  within  a  hundred  rods.  He  had 
not  yet  apparently  noticed  the  pedler's  cart,  so  that  this  was  in 
our  hero's  favor.  Mr.  Stubbs  had  already  arranged  his  plan  of 
operations. 

*'  This  is  what  you  're  to  do,  Paul,"  said  he,  quickly,  **  Cock 
your  hat  on  the  side  of  your  head,  considerably  forward,  so  that 
he  can 't  see  much  of  your  face.  Then  here 's  a  cigar  to  stick 
in  your  mouth.  You  can  make  believe  that  you  are  smoking. 
If  you  are  the  sort  of  boy  I  reckon  you  are,  he  '11  never  think 
it 's  you." 

Paul  instantly  adopted  this  suggestion. 

Slipping  his  hat  to  one  side  in  the  jaunty  manner  character 
istic  of  young  America,  he  began  to  puff  verj-  gravely  at  a  cigar 


84  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

the  pedler  handed  him,  frequently  taking  it  from  his  mouth,  as 
he  had  seen  older  persons  do,  to  knock  away  the  ashes.  JSTot- 
withstanding  his  alarm,  his  love  of  fun  made  him  enjoy  this 
little  stratagem,  in  which  he  bore  his  part  successfully. 

The  selectman  eyed  him  intently.  Paul  began  to  tremble 
from  fear  of  discovery,  but  his  apprehensions  were  speedily  dis- 
sipated by  a  remark  of  the  new  comer,  "  My  boy,  you  are 
forming  a  very  bad  habit." 

Paul  did  not  dare  to  answer  lest  his  voice  should  betray  him. 
To  his  relief,  the  pedler  spoke  — 

**  Just  what  I  tell  him,  sir,  but  I  suppose  he  thinks  he  must 
do  as  his  father  does." 

By  this  time  the  vehicles  had  passed  each  other,  and  the  im- 
mediate peril  was  over. 

**  Now,  Paul,"  said  his  companion,  laughing,  *'  I'll  trouble 
you  for  that  cigar,  if  you  have  done  with  it.  The  old  gentle- 
man's advice  was  good.  If  I'd  never  learned  to  smoke,  I 
would  n't  begin  now." 

Our  hero  was  glad  to  take  the  cigar  from  his  mouth.  The 
brief  time  he  had  held  it  was  sufficient  to  make  him  slightljr 
dizzy. 


xm. 

PAUL  EEACHES  THE  CITY. 

Towards  evening  they  drew  up  before  a  small  house  with  a 
neat  yard  in  front. 

**  I  guess  we  '11  get  out  here,"  said  Mr.  Stubbs.  '*  There 's 
a  gentleman  lives  here  that  I  feel  pretty  well  acquainted  with. 
Should  n't  wonder  if  he  'd  let  us  stop  over  Sunday.  Whoa, 
Goliah,  glad  to  get  home,  hey  ? "  as  the  horse  pricked  up  hia 
ears  and  showed  manifest  signs  of  satisfaction. 

*'  Now,  youngster,  follow  me,  and  I  guess  I  can  promise  you 
some  supper,  if  Mrs.  Stubbs  hasn't  forgotten  her  old  tricks." 

They  passed  through  the  entry  into  the  kitchen,  where  Mrs. 
Stubbs  was  discovered  before  the  fire  toasting  slices  of  bread. 

"Lor,  Jehoshaphat,"  said  she,  **I  didn't  expect  you  so 
soon,"  and  she  looked  inquiringly  at  his  companion. 

**  A  young  friend  who  is  going  to  stay  with  us  till  Monday," 
explained  the  pedler.     *'  His  name  i^  Paul  Prescott." 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Paul,"  said  Mrs.  Stubbs  with  a 
friendly  smile.  *'  You  must  be  tired  if  you've  been  travelling 
far.     Take  a  seat.     Here  's  a  rocking-chair  for  you." 

This  friendly  greeting  made  Paul  feel  quite  at  home.  Hav- 
ing no  children,  the  pedler  and  his  wife  exerted  themselves  to 
make  the  time  pass  pleasantly  to  their  young  acquaintance. 
Paul  could  not  help  contrasting  them  with  Mr.  and  ]VIrs. 
M^idge,  not  very  much  to  the  advantage  of  the  latter.  On 
Sunday  h<i  went  to  church  with  them,  and  the  peculiar  circum- 


86  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

stances  In  which  he  was  placed,  made  him  listen  to  the  sermon 
with  unusual  attention.  It  was  an  exposition  of  the  text,  "  My 
help  cometh  from  the  Lord,"  and  Paul  could  not  help  feeling 
that  it  was  particularly  applicable  to  his  own  case.  It  encour- 
aged him  to  hope,  that,  however  uncertain  his  prospects  ap- 
peared, God  would  help  him  if  he  put  his  trust  in  Him. 

On  Monday  morning  Paul  resumed  his  journey,  with  an  am- 
ple stock  of  provisions  supplied  by  Mrs.  Stubbs,  In  the  list  of 
which  doughnuts  occupied  a  prominent  place ;  this  being  at  the 
particular  suggestion  of  Mr.  Stubbs. 

Forty  or  fifty  miles  remained  to  be  traversed  before  his  des- 
tination would  be  reached.  The  road  was  not  a  difficult  one 
to  find,  and  he  made  it  out  without  much  questioning.  The 
first  night,  he  sought  permission  to  sleep  in  a  barn. 

He  met  with  a  decided  refusal. 

He  was  about  to  turn  away  in  disappointment,  when  he  was 
called  back. 

**  You're  a  little  too  fast,  youngster.  I  said  I  wouldn't  let 
you  sleep  in  my  bam,  and  I  wont ;  but  I  've  got  a  spare  bed 
in  the  house,  and  if  you  choose  you  shall  occupy  it." 

Under  the  guise  of  roughness,  this  man  had  a  kind  heart. 
He  inquired  into  the  particulars  of  Paul's  story,  and  at  the 
conclusion  terrified  him  by  saying  that  he  had  been  very  fool- 
ish and  ought  to  be  sent  back.  Nevertheless,  when  Paul  took 
leave  of  him  the  next  morning,  he  did  not  go  away  empty 
handed. 

**  If  you  must  be  so  foolish  as  to  set  up  for  yourself,  take 
this,"  said  the  farmer,  placing  half  a  dollar  in  his  hand. 
**  You  may  reach  the  city  after  the  banks  are  closed  for  the 
day,  you  know,"  he  added,  jocularly. 

But  it  was  in  the  morning  that  Paul  came  in  sight  of  the 
city.  He  climbed  up  into  a  high  tree,  which,  having  the  ben- 
efit of  an  elevated  situation,  afforded  him  an  extensive  pros- 
pect. Before  him  lay  the  great  city  of  which  he  had  so  often 
heard,  teeming  with  life  and  activity. 


PAUL  phescott's  charge.  87 

Half  in  eager  anticipation,  half  in  awe  and  wonder  at  ita 
vastness,  our  young  pilgrim  stood  upon  the  threshold  of  this 
great  Babel. 

Everything  looked  new  and  strange.  It  had  never  entered 
PauPs  mind,  that  there  could  be  so  many  houses  in  the  whole 
State  as  now  rose  up  before  him.  He  got  into  Broadway,  and 
walked  on  and  on,  thinking  that  ^e  street  must  end  some- 
where. But  the  farther  he  walked  the  thicker  the  houses 
seemed  crowded  together.  Every  few  rods,  too,  he  came  to  a 
cross  street,  which  seemed  quite  as  densely  peopled  as  the  one 
on  which  he  was  walking.  One  part  of  the  city  was  the  same 
as  another  to  Paul,  since  he  was  equally  a  stranger  to  all.  He 
wandered  listlessly  along,  whither  fancy  led.  His  mind  was 
constantly  excited  by  the  new  and  strange  objects  which  met 
him  at  every  step. 

As  he  was  looking  in  at  a  shop  window,  a  boy  of  about  his 
own  age,  stopped  and  inquired  confidentially,  **  When  did  you 
come  from  the  country  ?  " 

*'This  morning,"  said  Paul,  wondering  how  a  stranger 
should  know  that  he  was  a  country  boy. 

"Could  you  tell  me  what  is  the  price  of  potatoes  up  your 
way  ?  "  asked  the  other  boy,  with  perfect  gravity. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Paul,  innocently. 

"  I  'm  sorry  for  that,"  said  the  other,  '*  as  I  have  got  to  buy 
some  for  my  wife  and  family." 

Paul  stared  in  surprise  for  a  moment,  and  then  realizing  that 
he  was  being  made  game  of,  began  to  grow  angry. 

"  You  'd  better  go  home  to  your  wife  and  family,"  he  said 
with  spirit,  "  or  you  may  get  hurt." 

"  Bully  for  you,  country  ! "  answered  the  other  with  a  laugh. 
**  You  're  not  as  green  as  you  look." 

•'  Thank  you,"  said  Paul,  *'  I  wish  I  could  say  as  much  for 
you." 

Tired  with  walking,  Paul  at  length  sat  down  in  a  doorway, 
and  watched  with  interest  the  hurrying  crowds  that  passe  1  be- 


S8  PAUL  PitESCOTT's   CHARGE. 

fore  him.  Everybody  seemed  to  be  In  a  hurry,  pressing  for- 
ward as  if  life  and  death  depended  on  his  haste.  There  were 
lawyers  with  their  sharp,  keen  glances ;  merchants  mth  calcu- 
lating faces  ;  speculators  pondering  on  the  chances  of  a  rise  or 
fall  in  stocks ;  errand  boys  with  bundles  under  their  arms ; 
business  men  hurrying  to  the  slip  to  take  the  boat  for  Brook- 
lyn or  Jersey  City,  —  all  seemed  intent  on  business  of  some 
kind,  even  to  the  ragged  newsboys  who  had  just  obtained  their 
supply  of  evening  papers,  and  were  now  crying  them  at  the 
top  of  their  voices,  —  and  very  discordant  ones  at  that,  so 
Paul  thought.  Of  the  hundreds  passing  and  repassing  before 
him,  every  one  had  something  to  do.  Every  one  had  a  home 
to  go  to.  Perhaps  it  was  not  altogether  strange  that  a  feeling 
of  desolation  should  come  over  Paul  as  he  recollected  that  he 
stood  alone,  homeless,  friendless,  and,  it  might  be,  shelterless 
for  the  coming:  nio;ht. 

"Yet,"  thought  he  with  something  of  hopefulness,  *' there 
must  be  something  for  me  to  do  as  vv^ell  as  the  rest." 

Just  then  a  boy  some  two  years  older  than  Paul  paced  slowly 
by,  and  in  passing,  chanced  to  fix  his  eyes  upon  our  hero.  He 
probably  saw  something  in  Paul  which  attracted  him,  for  lie 
stepped  up  and  extending  his  hand,  said,  "  Why,  Tom,  how 
came  you  here  ?  " 

**My  name  isn't  Tom,"  said  Paul,  feeling  a  little  puzzled  by 
this  address. 

'*  Why,  so  it  isn't.  But  you  look  just  like  my  friend,  Tom 
Crocker." 

To  this  succeeded  a  few  inquiries,  which  Paul  unsuspiciously 
answered. 

"Do  you  like  oysters?"  inquired  the  new  comer,  after  a 
while. 

"Very  much.'' 

"  Because  I  know  of  a  tip  t«p  place  to  get  some,  just  round 
the  corner.     Would  n't  you  like  some  ?  " 

Paul  thanked  his  new  acquaintance,  and  said  he  would. 


PAUL  pkescott's  chaege.  89 

Without  more  ado,  his  companion  ushered  him  into  a  base- 
ment room  near  by.  He  led  the  way  into  a  curtained  recess, 
and  both  boys  took  seats,  one  on  each  side  of  a  small  table. 

"Just  pull  the  bell,  will  you,  and  tell  the  -waiter  we  '11  have 
two  stews." 

Paul  did  so. 

*'  I  suppose,"  continued  the  other,  **  the  governor  would  n't 
like  it  much  if  he  knew  where  I  was." 

••The  governor !"  repeated  Paul.  "Why,  it  isn't  against 
the  laws,  is  it?  " 

"No,"  laughed  the  other.  "I  mean  my  father.  How  jolly 
queer  you  are !  "  He  meant  to  say  green,  but  had  a  purpose 
in  not  offending  Paul. 

•*  Are  you  the  Governor's  son?"  asked  Paul  in  amazement. 

*•  To  be  sure,"  carelessly  replied  the  other. 

Paul's  wonder  had  been  excited  many  times  in  the  course  of 
the  day,  but  this  was  more  surprising  than  anything  which  had 
yet  befallen  him.  That  he  should  have  the  luck  to  fall  in  with 
the  son  of  the  Governor,  on  his  first  arrival  in  the  city,  and 
that  the  latter  should  prove  so  affable  and  condescending,  was 
indeed  surprising.  Paul  inwardly  determined  to  mention  it  in 
his  first  letter  to  Aunt  Lucy.  He  could  imagine  her  astonish- 
ment. 

While  he  was  busied  with  these  thoughts,  his  companion  had 
finished  his  oysters. 

*'  Most  through?  "  he  inquired  nonchalantly.  ••I've  got  to 
step  out  a  minute ;  wait  till  I  come  back." 

Paul  unsuspectingly  assented. 

He  heard  his  companion  say  a  word  to  the  barkeeper,  and 
then  go  out. 

He  waited  patiently  for  fifteen  minutes  and  he  did  not  re- 
turn; another  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  he  was  still  absent. 
Thinking  he  might  have  been  unexpectedly  detained,  he  rosa 
to  go,  but  was  called  back  by  the  barkeeper. 

•'  Hallo,  youngster!  are  you  going  off  without  paying?  " 


90  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

"For  what?"  inquired  Paul,  in  surprise. 

"  For  the  oysters,  of  course.  You  don't  suppose  I  give  'em 
away,  do  you  ?  " 

**  I  thought,"  hesitated  Paul,  **  that  the  one  who  was  with  me 
paid,  —  the  Governor's  son,"  he  added,  conscious  of  a  certain 
pride  in  his  intimacy  with  one  so  nearly  related  to  the  chiei 
magistrate  of  the  Commonwealth. 

*'The  Governor's  son,"  laughed  the  barkeeper.  "Why  the 
Governor  lives  a  hundred  miles  off  and  more.  That  wasn't 
the  Governor's  son  any  more  than  I  am." 

**  He  called  his  father  governor,"  said  Paul,  beginning  to  be 
afraid  that  he  had  made  some  ridiculous  blunder. 

**  Well,  I  wouldn't  advise  you  to  trust  him  again,  even  if 
he  's  the  President's  son.  He  only  got  you  in  here  to  pay  for 
his  oysters.  He  told  me  when  he  went  out  that  you  would 
pay  for  them." 

**And  didn't  he  say  he  was  coming  back? "asked  Paul, 
quite  dumbfounded. 

*'  He  said  you  hadn't  quite  finished,  but  would  pay  for  both 
when  you  came  out.     It 's  two  shillings. 

Paul  rather  ruefully  took  out  the  half  dollar  which  consti- 
tuted his  entire  stock  of  money,  and  tendered  it  to  the  bar- 
keeper who  returned  him  the  change. 

So  Paul  went  out  into  the  streets,  with  his  confidence  in  hu- 
man nature  somewhat  lessened. 

Here,  then,  is  our  hero  with  twenty-five  (jents  in  his  pocket, 
and  his  fortune  to  make. 


XIV. 

A  STRANGE    BED-CHAMBER. 

Although  Paul  could  not  help  being  vexed  at  having  been 
so  cleverly  taken  in  by  his  late  companion,  he  felt  the  bet- 
ter for  having  eaten  the  oysters.  Carefully  depositing  his  only 
remaining  coin  in  his  pocket,  he  resumed  his  wanderings.  It 
is  said  that  a  hearty  meal  is  a  good  promoter  of  cheerfulness. 
It  was  so  in  Paul's  case,  and  although  he  had  as  yet  had  no 
idea  where  he  should  find  shelter  for  the  night  he  did  not  al- 
low that  consideration  to  trouble  him. 

So  the  day  passed,  and  the  evening  came  on.  Paul's  ap- 
petite returned  to  him  once  more.  He  invested  one  half  of  his 
money  at  an  old  woman's  stall  for  cakes  and  apples,  and  then 
he  ate  leisurely  while  leaning  against  the  iron  railing  which 
encircles  the  park. 

He  began  to  watch  with  interest  the  movements  of  those 
about  him.  Already  the  lamplighter  had  started  on  his  accus- 
tomed round,  and  with  ladder  in  hand  was  making  his  way 
from  one  lamp-post  to  another.  Paul  quite  marvelled  at  the 
celerity  with  wliich  the  lampi  were  lighted,  never  before  having 
witnessed  the  use  of  gas.  He  was  so  much  interested  in  the 
process  that  he  sauntered  along  behind  the  lamplighter  for 
some  time.  At  length  his  eye  fell  upon  a  group  common 
enoagh  in  our  cities,  but  new  to  him. 

An  Italian,  short  and  dark-featured,  with  a  velvet  cap,  was 


92  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

grinding  out  music  from  a  hand-organ,  while  a  woman  with  a 
complexion  equally  dark,  and  black  sorrowful -looking  eyes, 
accompanied  her  husband  on  the  tambourine.  They  were 
playing  a  lively  tune  as  Paul  came  up,  but  quickly  glided  into 
**  Home,  Sweet  Home." 

Paul  listened  with  pleased,  yet  sad  interest.  For  him 
** home"  was  only  a  sad  remembraace. 

He  wandered  on,  pausing  now  and  then  to  look  into  one  of 
the  brilliantly  illuminated  shop  windows,  or  catching  a  glimpse 
through  the  open  doors  of  the  gay  scene  within,  and  as  one 
after  another  of  these  lively  scenes  passed  before  him,  he  be- 
gan to  think  that  all  the  strange  and  wonderful  things  in  th^ 
world  must  be  collected  in  these  rich  stores. 

Next,  he  came  to  a  place  of  public  amusement.  Crowds  were 
entering  constantly,  and  Paul,  from  curiosity,  entered  too.  He 
passed  on  to  a  little  wicket,  when  a  man  stopped  him. 

*'  Where  's  your  ticket?  "  he  asked. 

**  I  have  n't  got  any,"  said  Paul. 

"Then  what  business  have  you  here?"  said  the  man, 
roughly. 

"  Is  n  't  this  a  meeting-house?  "  asked  Paul. 

This  remark  seemed  to  amuse  two  boys  who  were  standing 
by.  Looking  up  with  some  indignation,  Paul  recognized  in 
one  of  them  the  boy  who  had  cheated  him  out  of  the  oysters. 

*'  Look  here,"  said  Paul,  "  what  made  you  go  off  and  leave 
me  to  pay  for  the  oysters  this  morning  ?  " 

"  Which  of  us  do  you  mean?"  inquired  the  '*  governor's 
Bon."  carelessly. 

*'  I  mean  you." 

**  Really,  I  don't  understand  your  meaning.  Perhaps  ycu 
mistake  me  for  somebody  else." 

**^^^lat?"  said  Paul,  in  great  astonishment,  ''Don't  you 
remember  me,  and  how  you  told  me  you  were  the  Governor's 


son 


p" 


Both  boys  laughed. 


PAUL   PRESCOTT'S    CHARGE.  93 

"  You  must  be  mistaken.  I  have  n't  the  honor  of  being  re- 
lated to  the  distinguished  gentleman  you  name." 

The  speaker  made  a  mocking  bow  to  Paul. 

**  I  know  that,"  said  Paul,  with  spirit,  **but  you  said  you 
were,  for  all  that." 

**  It  must  have  been  some  other  good-looking  boy,  that  you 
are  mistaking  me  for.  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  I 
hope,  by  the  way,  that  the  oysters  agreed  with  you." 

**  Yes,  they  did,"  said  Paul,  "  for  I  came  honestly  by  them." 

**  He 's  got  you  there,  Gerald,"  said  the  other  boy. 

Paul  made  his  way  out  of  the  theatre.  As  his  funds  were  re- 
duced to  twelve  cents,  he  could  not  have  purchased  a  ticket  if 
he  had  desired  it. 

Still  he  moved  on. 

Soon  he  came  to  another  building,  which  was  in  like  manner 
lighted  up,  but  not  so  brilliantly  as  the  theatre.  This  time, 
from  the  appearance  of  the  building,  and  from  the  tall  steeple, 
—  so  tall  that  his  eye  could  scarcely  reach  the  tapering  spire,  — 
he  knew  that  it  must  be  a  church.  There  was  not  such  a  crowd 
gathered  about  the  door  as  at  the  place  he  had  just  left,  but  he 
saw  a  few  persons  entering,  and  he  joined  them.  The  interior 
of  the  church  was  far  more  gorgeous  than  the  plain  village 
meeting-house  which  he  had  been  accustomed  to  attend  with  his 
mother.  He  gazed  about  him  with  a  feeling  of  awe,  and  sank 
quietly  into  a  back  pew.  As  it  was  a  week-day  evening,  and 
nothing  of  unusual  interest  was  anticipated,  there  were  but  few 
present,  here  and  there  one,  scattered  through  the  capacious 
edifice. 

By-and-by  the  organist  commenced  playing,  and  a  flood  of 
music,  grander  and  more  solemn  than  he  had  ever  heard,  filled 
the  whole  edifice.  He  listened  with  rapt  attention  and  sus- 
pended breath  till  the  last  note  died  away,  and  then  sank  back 
upon  the  richly  cushioned  seat  with  a  feeling  of  enjoyment. 

Li  the  services  which  followed  he  was  not  so  much  interested. 
The  officiating  clergyman  delivered  a  long  homily  in  a  dull 


94  PAUL   PRESCOTT's   CHAFvGE. 

unimpassloned  manner,  whlcli  failed  to  awaken  his  interest. 
Already  disposed  to  be  drowsy,  it  acted  upon  him  like  a  gentle 
soporific.  He  tried  to  pay  attention  as  he  had  always  been 
used  to  do,  but  owing  to  his  occupying  a  back  seat,  and  the 
low  voice  of  the  preacher,  but  few  words  reached  him,  and 
those  for  the  most  part  were  above  his  comprehension. 

Gradually  the  feeling  of  fatigue  —  for  he  had  been  walking 
the  streets  all  day  —  became  so  powerful  that  his  struggles  to 
keep  awake  became  harder  and  harder.  In  vain  he  sat  erect, 
resolved  not  to  yield.  The  moment  afterwards  his  head  in- 
clined to  one  side ;  the  lights  began  to  swim  before  his  eyes  ;  the 
voice  of  the  preacher  subsided  into  a  low  and  undistinguishable 
hum.  PauPs  head  sank  upon  the  cushion,  his  bundle,  which 
had  been  his  constant  companion  during  the  day,  fell  softly  to 
the  floor,  and  he  fell  into  a  deep  sleep. 

Meanwhile  che  sermon  came  to  a  close,  and  another  hymn 
was  sung,  but  even  the  music  was  insufficient  to  wake  our  hero 
now.  So  the  benediction  was  pronounced,  and  the  people 
opened  the  doors  of  their  pews  and  left  the  church. 

Last  of  all  the  sexton  walked  up  and  down  the  aisles,  closing 
such  of  the  pew  doors  as  were  open.  Then  he  shut  off  the 
gas,  and  after  looking  around  to  see  that  nothing  was  forgot- 
ten, went  out,  apparently  satisfied,  and  locked  the  outer  door 
behind  him. 

Paul,  meanwhile,  wholly  unconscious  of  his  situation,  slept 
on  as  tranquilly  as  if  there  were  nothing  unusual  in  the  cir- 
cumstances in  which  he  was  placed.  Through  the  stained 
windows  the  softened  light  fell  upon  his  tranquil  countenance, 
on  which  a  smile  played,  as  if  his  dreams  were  pleasant. 
What  would  Aunt  Lucy  have  thought  if  she  could  have  seen 
her  young  fiiend  at  this  moment  ? 


XV. 

A   TURN   OF  FORTUNE. 

Notwithstanding  his  singular  bedchamber,  P.iul  had  a 
refreshing  night's  sleep,  from  which  he  did  not  awake  till  the 
sun  had  fairly  risen,  and  its  rays,  colored  by  the  medium 
through  which  they  were  reflected,  streamed  In  at  the  windows 
and  rested  in  many  fantastic  lines  on  the  richly  carved  pulpit 
and  luxurious  pews. 

Paul  sprang  to  his  feet  and  looked  around  him  in  bewil- 
derment. 

*'  Where  am  I? "  he  exclaimed  in  astonishment. 

In  the  momentary  confusion  of  Ideas  which  Is  apt  to  follow  a 
sudden  awakening,  he  could  not  remember  where  he  was,  or 
bow  he  chanced  to  be  there.  But  in  a  moment  memory  came  to 
his  aid,  and  he  recalled  the  events  of  the  preceding  day,  and 
saw  that  he  must  have  been  locked  up  In  the  church. 

"How  am  I  going  to  get  out?"  Paul  asked  himself  in 
dismay. 

This  was  the  Important  question  just  now.  He  remembered 
that  the  village  meeting-house  which  he  had  been  accustomed 
to  attend  was  rarely  opened  except  on  Sundays.  What  If  this 
should  be  the  case  here  ?  It  was  Thursday  morning,  and  three 
days  must  elapse  before  his  release.  This  would  never  do. 
He  must  seek  some  earlier  mode  of  deliverance. 

He  went  first  to  the  windows,  but  found  them  so  secured  that 
it  was  impossible  for  him  to  get  them   open.     He  tried  the 


96  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

doors,  but  found,  as  he  had  anticipated,  that  they  were  fast. 
His  last  resource  failing,  he  was  at  liberty  to  follow  the  dictatea 
of  his  curiosity. 

Finding  a  small  door  partly  open,  he  peeped  within,  and 
found  a  flight  of  steep  stairs  rising  before  him.  They  wound 
rormd  and  round,  and  seemed  almost  interminable.  At  length, 
after  he  had  become  almost  weary  of  ascending,  he  came  to  a 
small  window,  out  of  which  he  looked.  At  his  feet  lay  the 
numberless  roofs  of  the  city,  while  not  fir  away  his  eye  rested 
on  thousands  of  masts.  The  river  sparkled  in  the  sun,  and  Paul, 
in  spite  of  his  concern,  could  not  help  enjoying  the  scone. 
The  sound  of  horses  and  carriages  moving  along  the  great 
thoroughfare  below  came  confusedly  to  his  ears.  He  leaned 
forward  to  look  down,  but  the  distance  was  so  much  greater 
than  he  had  thought,  that  he  drew  back  in  alarm. 

'*  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  Paul  asked  himself,  rather  frightened. 
"  I  wonder  if  I  can  stand  going  without  food  for  three  days  ? 
I  suppose  nobody  would  hear  me  if  I  should  scream  as  loud  as 
I  could." 

Paul  shouted,  but  there  was  so  much  noise  in  the  streets 
that  nobody  probably  heard  him. 

He  descended  the  staircase,  and  once  more  found  himself  in 
the  body  of  the  church.  He  went  up  into  the  pulpit,  but  there 
seemed  no  hope  of  escape  in  that  direction.  There  was  a  door 
leading  out  on  one  side,  but  this  only  led  to  a  little  room  into 
which  the  minister  retired  before  service. 

It  seemed  rather  odd  to  Paul  to  find  himself  the  sole  occu- 
pant of  so  large  a  building.  He  began  to  wonder  whether  it 
would  not  have  been  better  for  him  to  stay  in  the  poorhouse, 
than  come  to  New  York  to  die  of  starvation. 

Just  at  this  moment  Paul  heard  a  key  rattle  in  the  outer 
door.  Filled  with  new  hope,  he  ran  down  the  pulpit  stairs  and 
out  into  the  porch,  just  in  time  to  see  the  entrance  of  the  sexton. 

The  sexton  started  in  surprise  as  his  eye  fell  upon  I'aul 
standi^  before  him,  with  his  bundle  under  his  arm. 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  97 

"Where  did  you  come  from,  and  Low  came  you  here?"  he 
asked  with  some  suspicion. 

"  I  came  in  last  night,  and  fell  asleep.** 

**  So  you  passed  the  night  here?  '* 

♦♦  Yes,  sir." 

♦'What  made  you  come  in  at  all?"  inquired  the  sexton, 
who  knew  enough  of  boys  to  be  curious  upon  this  pomt. 

*'  I  didn't  know  where  else  to  go,"  said  Paul. 

*♦  Where  do  you  live  ?  " 

Paul  answered  with  perfect  truth,  '*  I  don't  live  anywhere." 

•♦What!  Have  you  no  home?"  asked  the  sexton  in  sur- 
prise . 

Paul  shook  his  head. 

"Where  should  you  have  slept  if  you  hadn't  come  in 

here?" 

*♦  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure." 

•*  And  I  suppose  you  don't  know  where  you  shall  sleep  to- 
night?" 

Paul  signified  that  he  did  not. 

*'  I  knew  there  were  plenty  of  such  cases,"  said  the  sexton, 
meditatively ;  '*  but  I  never  seemed  to  realize  it  before." 

"How  long  have  you  been  In  New  York?"  was  his  next 

inquiry. 

"  Not  very  long,"  said  Paul.     "  I  only  got  here  yesterday." 

*'  Then  you  don't  know  anybody  in  the  city  ?  " 

»♦  No." 

*'  Why  did  you  come  here,  then  ?  " 

♦'  Because  I  wanted  to  go  somewhere  where  T  could  earn  a 
living,  and  I  thought  I  might  find  something  to  do  here." 

•♦  But  suppose  you  shouldn't  find  anything  to  do ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Paul,  slowly.  *' I  haven't  thought 
much  about  that." 

"Well,  my  lad,"  said  the  sexton,  not  unkindly,  "I  can't 
say  your  prospects  look  very  bright.  You  should  have  good 
r«:-asons  for  entering  on  such  an  undertaking.  I  — I  don't 
9 


98  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

think  you  are  a  bad  boy.  You  don't  look  like  a  bad  one,"  he 
added,  half  to  himself. 

•*  I  hope  not,  sir,"  said  Paul. 

"  I  hope  not,  too.  I  was  going  to  say  that  I  wish  I  could 
help  you  to  some  kind  of  work.  If  you  will  come  home  with 
me,  you  shall  be  welcome  to  a  dinner,  and  perhaps  I  may  be 
ftble  to  think  of  something  for  you." 

Paul  gladly  prepared  to  follow  his  new  acquaintance. 

*'  What  is  your  name.*'  "  inquired  the  sexton. 

*•  Paul  Prescott." 

*'  That  sounds  like  a  good  name.  I  suppose  you  have  n't 
jot  much  money  ?  " 

"  Only  twelve  cents." 

*'  Bless  me  !  only  twelve  cents.  Poor  boy !  you  are  Indeed 
^or." 

**But  lean  work,"  said  Paul,  spiritedly.  ** I  ought  to  be 
iJble  to  earn  my  living." 

*'Yes,  yes,  that's  the  way  to  Teei.  Heaven  helps  those 
who  help  themselves." 

When  they  were  fairly  out  of  the  church,  Paul  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  observing  liis  companion's  external  appearance.  He 
was  an  elderly  man,  with  harsh  features,  which  would  have 
been  forbidding,  but  for  a  certain  air  of  benevolence  which 
softened  their  expression. 

As  Paul  walked  along,  he  related,  with  less  of  detail,  the 
story  which  is  already  known  to  the  reader.  The  sexton  said 
Jittle  except  in  the  way  of  questions  designed  to  elicit  further 
particulars,  till,  at  the  conclusion  he  said,  "Must  tell  Hester." 

At  length  they  came  to  a  small  house,  in  a  respectable  but 
not  fashionable  quarter  of  the  city.  One  half  of  this  was  occu- 
pied by  the  sexton.  He  opened  the  door  and  led  the  way  into 
the  shting-room.  It  was  plainly  but  neatly  furnished,  the  only 
ornament  being  one  or  two  engravings  cheaply  framed  and 
hung  over  the  mantel-piece.  They  were  by  no  means  gems  of 
art,  but  then,  the  sexton  did  not  claim  to  be  a  connoisseur, 


PAUL   PRESCOTT'S    CHARGE.  99 

and  would  probably  not  have  understood  the  meaning  of  the 
word. 

♦*  Sit  here  a  moment,"  said  the  sexton,  pointing  to  a  chair, 
"I'll  go  and  speak  to  Hester." 

Paul  whiled  away  the  time  in  looking  at  the  pictures  in  a 
copy  of  '*  The  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  which  lay  on  the  table. 

In  the  next  room  sat  a  woman  of  perhaps  fifty,  engaged  in 
knitting.  It  was  very  easy  to  see  that  she  could  never  have 
possessed  the  perishable  gift  of  beauty.  Hers  was  one  of  the 
faces  on  which  nature  has  written  plain,  in  unmistakable  char- 
acters. Yet  if  the  outward  features  had  been  a  reflex  of  the 
soul  within,  few  faces  would  have  been  more  attractive  than 
that  of  Hester  Cameron.  At  the  feet  of  the  sexton's  wife,  for 
such  she  was,  reposed  a  maltese  cat,  purring  softly  by  way  of 
showing  her  contentment.  Indeed,  she  had  good  reason  to  be 
satisfied.  In  default  of  children,  puss  had  become  a  privileged 
pet,  being  well  fed  and  carefully  shielded  from  all  the  perils 
that  beset  cat-hood. 

"  Home  so  soon?"  said  Hester  Inquiringly,  as  her  husband 
opened  the  door. 

**  Yes,  Hester,  and  I  have  brought  company  with  me,"  said 
the  sexton. 

*♦  Company  !  "  repeated  his  wife.     **  Who  is  it  ?  " 

**It  is  a  poor  boy,  who  was  accidentally  locked  up  in  the 
church  last  night." 

"  And  he  had  to  stay  there  all  night  ?  " 

**  Yes ;  but  perhaps  it  was  lucky  for  him,  for  he  had  no  oth- 
er place  to  sleep,  and  not  money  enough  to  pay  for  one." 

"Poor  child!"  said  Hester,  compassionately.  **Is  it  not 
terrible  to  think  that  any  human  creature  should  be  without 
the  comforts  of  a  home  which  even  our  tabby  possesses.  It 
ought  to  make  you  thankful  that  you  are  so  well  cared  for. 
Tab." 

The  cat  opened  her  eyes  and  winked  drowsily  at  her  mis- 
tress. 


100  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

"  So  you  brought  the  poor  boy  home,  Hugh  ?  " 

"Yes,  Hester,  —  I  thought  we  ought  not  to  begrulge  a 
meal  to  one  less  favored  by  fortune  than  ourselves.  You  know 
we  should  consider  ourselves  the  almoners  of  God's  bounties." 

"  Surely,  Hugh." 

*•  I  knew  you  would  feel  so,  Hester.  And  suppose  we  have 
the  chicken  for  dinner  that  I  sent  in  the  morning.  I  begin  to 
Lave  a  famous  appetite.     I  think  I  should  enjoy  it." 

Hester  knew  perfectly  well  that  it  was  for  Paul's  sake,  and 
not  for  his  own,  that  her  husband  spoke.  But  she  so  far  en- 
tered into  his  feelings,  that  she  determined  to  expend  her  ut- 
most skill  as  cook  upon  the  dinner,  that  Paul  might  have  at 
least  one  good  meal. 

"Now  I  will  bring  the  boy  in,"  said  he.  I  am  obliged  to  go  to 
work,  but  you  will  find  some  way  to  entertain  him,  I  dare  say." 

"  If  you  will  come  out  (this  he  said  to  Paul),  I  will  introduce 
you  to  a  new  friend." 

Paul  was  kindly  welcomed  by  the  sexton's  wife,  who  ques- 
tioned him  in  a  sympathizing  tone  about  his  enforced  stay  in 
the  church.  To  all  her  questions  Paul  answered  in  a  modest 
yet  manly  fashion,  so  as  to  produce  a  decidedly  favorable  im- 
pression upon  his  entertainer. 

Our  hero  was  a  handsome  boy.  Just  at  present  he  was 
somewhat  thin,  not  having  entirely  recovered  from  the  eflfects 
of  his  sickness  and  poor  fare  while  a  member  of  Mr.  Mudge's 
family ;  but  he  was  well  made,  and  bade  fair  to  become  a 
stout  boy.  His  manner  was  free  and  unembarrassed,  and  he 
carried  a  letter  of  recommendation  in  his  face.  It  must  be  ad- 
mitted, however  that  there  were  two  points  in  which  his  ap- 
pearance might  have  been  improved.  Both  his  hands  and  face 
had  suffered  from  the  dust  of  travel.  His  clothes,  too,  were 
full  of  dust. 

A  single  glance  told  Hester  all  this,  and  she  resolved  ta 
remedy  it. 

She  quietly  got  some  water  and  a  towel,  and  requested  Paid 


PAUL    PRESCOTT'S    CHARGE.  101 

to  pull  off  his  jacket,  which  she  dusted  while  he  was  performing 
his  ablutions.  Then,  with  the  help  of  a  comb  to  arrange  his 
disordered  hair,  he  seemed  quite  like  a  new  boy,  and  felt  quite 
refreshed  by  the  operation. 

*' Really,  it  improves  him  very  much,"  said  Hester  to  her- 
self. 

She  couldn't  help  recalling  a  boy  of  her  own,  —  the  only 
child  she  ever  had,  — who  had  been  accidentally  drowned  when 
about  the  age  of  Paul. 

"If  he  had  only  lived,"  she  thought,  "how  different  might 
have  been  our  life." 

A  thought  came  into  her  mind,  and  she  looked  earnestly  at 
Paul. 

*'I — yes  T  will  speak  to  Hugh  about  it,"  she  said,  speaking 
aloud,  unconsciously. 

*'  Did  you  speak  to  me  ?  "  asked  Paul. 

**No,  —  I  was  thinking  of  something." 

She  observed  that  Paul  was  looking  rather  wistfully  at  a 
loaf  of  bread  on  the  table. 

**  Dont  you  feel  hungry  ?  "  she  asked,  kindly.  "  I  dare  say 
you  have  had  no  breakfast." 

'*  I  have  eaten  nothing  since  yesterday  afternoon." 

"Bless  xny  soul!  How  hungry  you  must  be!"  said  the 
good  woman,  as  she  bustled  about  to  get  a  plate  of  butter  and 
a  knife. 

She  must  have  been  convinced  of  it  by  the  rapid  manner  in 
which  the  slices  of  bread  and  butter  disappeared. 

At  one  o'clock  the  sexton  came  home.  Dinner  was  laid,  and 
Paul  partook  of  it  with  an  appetite  little  affected  by  his  lunch 
jf  the  morning.  As  he  rose  from  the  table,  he  took  his  cap, 
and  saying,  ' '  Good-by ,  I  thank  you  very  much  for  your  kind- 
ness! "  he  was  about  to  depa]*t. 

*'  Where  are  you  going?  "  asked  the  sexton,  in  surprise, 

**  I  don't  know,"  answered  Paul. 

*'  Stop  a  minute.     Hester,  I  want  to  speak  to  you.  " 

9 


102  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

Tliey  went  into  the  sitting-room  together. 

**  This  boy,  Hester,"  he  commenced  with  hesitation. 

"Well,  Hugh?" 

**  He  has  no  home. " 

*♦  It  is  a  hard  lot.  " 

**  Do  you  think  we  should  be  the  worse  off  if  we  offered 
to  share  our  home  with  him  ?  " 

**  It  is  like  your  kind  heart,  Hugh.  Let  us  go  and  tell 
him." 

**  We  have  been  talking  of  you,  Paul, "  said  the  sexton. 
*•  We  have  thought,  Hester  and  myself,  that  as  you  had  no 
home  and  we  no  child,  we  should  all  be  the  gainers  by  your 
staying  with  us.     Do  you  consent? " 

••  Consent !  "  echoed  Paul  in  joyful  surprise.  **  How  can  I 
ever  repay  your  kindness  ?  " 

**  If  you  are  the  boy  we  take  you  for,  we  shall  feel  abun- 
dantly repaid.  Hester,  we  can  give  Paul  the  little  bedroom 
where  —  where  John  used  to  sleep." 

His  voice  faltered  a  little,  for  John  was  the  name  of  his  boy, 
who  had  been  drowned. 


XVI. 

YOUNG    STUPID. 

Paul  found  the  sexton's  dwelling  very  diflferent  from  his  ke-t 
home,  if  the  Poorhouse  under  the  charge  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Mudge  deserved  such  a  name.  His  present  home  was  an 
humble  one,  but  he  was  provided  with  every  needful  comfort, 
and  the  atmosphere  of  kindness  which  surrounded  him,  gave 
him  a  feeling  of  peace  and  happiness  which  he  had  not  en- 
joyed for  a  long  time. 

Paul  supposed  that  he  would  be  at  once  set  to  work,  and 
even  then  would  have  accounted  himself  fortunate  in  possess- 
ing such  a  home. 

But  Mr.  Cameron  had  other  views  for  him. 

**  Are  you  fond  of  studying  ?  "  asked  the  sexton,  as  they  were 
all  three  gathered  in  the  little  sitting-room,  an  evening  or  two 
after  Paul  first  came. 

•*  Very  much  !"  replied  our  hero. 

**  And  would  you  like  to  go  to  school?  " 

*♦  What,  here  in  New  York?  " 

*'Yes." 

•'  O,  very  much  indeed." 

♦♦I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  my  lad.  There  is  nothing 
like  a  good  education.  If  I  had  a  son  of  my  own,  I  would 
rather  leave  him  that  than  money,  for  while  the  last  may  be 
lost,  the  first  never  can  be.  And  though  you  are  not  my  son, 
Paul,  Providence  has  in  a  manner  conducted  you  to  me,  and  I 


104  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

feel  responsible  for  your  future.  So  you  sliall  go  to  sehDol 
next  Monday  morning,  and  I  hope  you  will  do  yourself  much 
credit  there." 

*' Thank  you  very  much,"  said  Paul.  **I  feel  very  grate- 
f\il,  but "  — 

"You  surely  are  not  going  to  object?  "  said  the  sexton. 

''No,  but"  — 

*' Well,  Paul,  go  on,"  seeing  that  the  boy  hesitated. 

"Why,"  said  our  hero,  with  a  sense  of  delicacy  which  did 
him  credit,  "  If  I  go  to  school,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  earn  my 
board,  and  shall  be  living  at  your  expense,  though  I  have  no 
claim  upon  you." 

**0,  is  that  all?"  said  the  sexton,  cheerfully,  **  I  was  afraid 
that  it  was  something  more  serious.  As  to  that,  I  am  not  rich, 
and  never  expect  to  be.  But  what  little  expense  you  will  be 
will  not  ruin  me.  Besides,  when  you  are  grown  up  and  doing 
well,  you  can  repay  me,  if  I  ever  need  it." 

"  That  I  will,"  said  Paul. 

"Mind,  if  I  ever  need  it,  —  not  otherwise.  There,  now  it's 
a  bargain  on  that  condition.  You  havn't  any  other  objec- 
tion," seeing  that  Paul  still  hesitated. 

"No,  or  at  least  I  should  like  to  ask  your  advice,"  said 
Paul.  "Just  before  my  father  died,  he  told  me  of  a  debt  of 
five  hundred  dollars  which  he  had  not  been  able  to  pay.  I 
sav/  that  it  troubled  him,  and  I  promised  to  pay  it  whenever  I 
was  able.  I  don't  know  but  I  ought  to  go  to  work  so  as  to 
keep  ray  promise." 

•'No,"  said  the  sexton  after  a  moment's  reflection,  "the 
best  course  will  be  to  go  to  school,  at  present.  Knowledge  is 
power,  and  a  good  education  will  help  you  to  make  money  by 
and  by.  I  approve  your  resolution,  my  lad,  and  if  you  keep 
it  resolutely  in  mind  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  accomplish  your 
object.  But  the  quickest  road  to  success  is  through  the 
schoolroom.  At  present  you  are  not  able  to  earn  much.  Two 
or  three  years  hence  will  be  time  enough." 


PAUL    PEESCOTT^S    CHARGE.  105 

PauVs  face  brightened  as  the  sexton  said  this.  He  instinc- 
tively felt  that  Mr.  Cameron  was  right.  He  had  never  forgot- 
ten his  father's  dying  injunction,  and  this  was  one  reason  that 
impelled  him  to  run  away  from  the  Almshouse,  because  he  telt 
that  while  he  remained  he  never  would  be  in  a  situation  to 
carry  out  his  father's  wishes.  Now  his  duty  was  reconciled 
with  his  pleasure,  and  he  gratefully  accepted  the  sexton's  sug- 

gestions. 

The  next  Monday  morning,  in  accordance  with  the  arrange- 
ment which  had  just  been  agreed  upon,  Paul  repaired  to  school. 
He  was  at  once  placed  in  a  class,  and  lessons  were  assigned 

him.  .   .        .     -mr 

At  first  his  progress  was  not  rapid.  While  living  m  Wren- 
ville  he  had  an  opportunity  only  of  attending  a  country  school, 
kept  less  than  six  months  in  the  year,  and  then  not  affording 
advantages  to  be  compared  with  those  of  a  city  school. 
During  his  father's  sickness,  besides,  he  had  been  kept  from 
8chooraltogether.  Of  course  all  this  lost  time  could  not  be 
jiade  up  in  a  moment.  Therefore  it  was  that  Paul  lagged 
behind  his  class. 

There  are  generally  some  in  every  school,  who  are  disposed 
to  take  unfair  advantage  of  their  schoolmates,  or  to  ridicule 
those  whom  they  consider  inferior  to  themselves. 

There  was  one  such  in  Paul's  class.     His  name  was  George 

Dawkins.  .  , 

He  was  rather  a  showy  boy,  and  learned  easily.  He  might 
have  stood  a  class  above  where  he  was,  if  he  had  not  been  lazy, 
and  depended  too  much  on  his  natural  talent.  As  it  was,  he 
maintained  the  foremost  rank  in  his  class. 

-  Better  be  the  first  man  in  a  village  than  the  second  man  in 
Eome,"  he  used  to  say;  and  as  his  present  position  not  only 
gave  him  the  pre-eminence  which  he  desir-.d,  but  cost  him  very 
Uttle  exertion  to  maintain,  he  was  quite  well  satisfied  with  it 

This  boy  stood  first  in  his  class,  while  Paul  entered  at  the 
foot. 


106  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

He  laughed  unmercifully  at  the  frequent  mistakes  of  oar  hero, 
and  jeeringly  dubbed  him,  *'  Young  Stupid." 

"  Do  you  know  what  Dawkins  calls  you?"  asked  one  of 
the  boys. 

**  No.     What  does  he  call  me  ?  "  asked  Paul,  seriously. 

**  He  calls  you  '  Young  Stupid  '  " 

Paul's  fa'^e  flushed  painfully.  Ridicule  was  as  painful  to  him 
as  it  is  to  Dxont  boys,  and  he  felt  the  insult  deeply. 

**  I  'd  fight  him  if  I  were  you,"  was  the  volunteered  advic« 
of  his  infonnait. 

"  No,"  said  Paul.  **  That  would  n't  mend  the  matter.  Be- 
sides, I  don't  kcow  but  he  has  some  reason  for  thinking  so." 

*'  You  dont  caU  yourself  stupid,  do  you  ?  " 

**  No,  but  I  am  not  as  far  advanced  as  most  boys  of  my  age. 
That  is  n't  my  fauH,  though.  I  never  had  a  chance  to  go  to 
school  much.  If  I  Lai  been  to  school  all  my  hfe,  as  Dawkins 
has,  it  would  be  time  to  find  out  whether  I  am  stupid  or  not." 

*'  Then  you  ain't  going  to  do  anything  about  it  ?  " 

•*  Yes,  I  am." 

**  You  said  you  was  n't  g'^ing  to  fight  him." 

*'  That  would  n't  do  any  good.  But  I'm  going  to  study  up 
and  see  if  I  can't  get  ahead  of  him.  Don't  you  think  that  will 
be  the  best  way  of  showing  him  thai  he  is  mistaken  ? !' 

*'  Yes,  capital,  but"  — 

**  But  you  think  I  can't  do  it,  I  supT^o.^e,"  said  Paul. 

**  You  know  he  is  at  the  head  of  the  class,  and  you  are  at 
the  foot." 

*'  I  know  that,"  said  Paul,  resolutely.  "  But  wait  awhile  and 
see." 

In  some  way  George  Dawkins  learned  that  .^aul  had  ex- 
pressed the  determination  to  dispute  his  place.  It  o*^-^asioned 
him  considerable  amusement. 

*' Halloa,  Young  Stupid,"  he  called  out,  at  recess. 

Paul  did  not  answer. 

*'  Why  don't  you  answer  when  you  are  spoken  to  ?  "  h<»  vke<l. 
angrily. 


PAUL    PRESCOTT'S    CHARGE.  107 

**  When  you  call  me  by  my  right  name,"  said  Paul,  quietly, 
**  I  will  answer,  and  not  before." 

*' You're  mighty  independent,"  sneered  Dawkins.  "I 
don't  know  but  I  may  have  to  teach  you  manners." 

**  You  had  better  wait  till  you  are  qualified,"  said  Paul, 
coolly. 

Dawkins  approached  our  hero  menacingly,  but  Paul  did  not 
look  in  the  least  alarmed,  and  he  concluded  to  attack  him  with 
words  only. 

*'  I  understand  you  have  set  yourself  up  as  my  rival!  "  he 
said,  mockingly. 

*'  Not  just  yet,  "  said  Paul,  **  but  in  time  I  expect  to  be." 

*'  So  you  expect  my  place,"  said  Dawkins,  glancing  about 
him. 

*'  We  '11  talk  about  that  three  months  hence,"  said  Paul. 

**  Don't  hurt  yourself  studying,"  sneered  Dawkins,  scora- 
fully. 

To  this  Paul  did  not  deign  a  reply,  but  the  same  day  he  rose 
one  in  his  class. 

Our  hero  had  a  large  stock  of  energy  and  determination. 
When  he  had  once  set  his  mind  upon  a  thing,  he  kept  steadily 
at  work  till  he  accomplished  it.  This  is  the  great  secret  of 
success.  It  sometimes  happens  that  a  man  who  has  done 
nothing  will  all  at  once  accomplish  a  brilliant  success  by  one 
spasmodic  effort,  but  such  cases  are  extremely  rare.  *'  Slow 
and  sure  wins  the  race,"  is  an  old  proverb  that  has  a  great  deal 
of  truth  in  it. 

Paul  worked  industriously. 

The  kind  sexton  and  his  wife,  who  noticed  his  assiduity, 
strove  to  dissuade  him  from  working  so  steadily. 

*'  You  are  working  too  hard,  Paul,"  they  said. 

**  Do  I  look  pale?"  asked  Paul,  pointing  with  a  smile  to 
his  red  cheeks. 

**  No,  but  you  will  before  long." 

•*  When  I  am,  I  will  study  less.      But  you  know,  Uncle 


108  PAUL  pkescott's  charge. 

Hugh"  so  the  sexton  instructed  him  to  call  him,  "I  want  to 
make  the  most  of  my  present  advantages.  Besides,  there 's  a 
particular  boy  who  thinks  I  am  stupid.  I  want  to  convince  him 
that  he  is  mistaken." 

*'  You  are  a  little  ambitious,  then,  Paul  ?  " 

*'Yes,  but  it  isn't  that  alone.  I  know  the  value  of 
knowledge,  and  I  want  to  secure  as  much  as  I  can." 

*♦  That  is  an  excellent  motive,  Paul." 

*'  Then  you  wont  make  me  study  less  ?  " 

**Not  unless  I  see  you  are  getting  sick." 

Paul  took  good  care  of  this.  He  knew  how  to  play  as  well 
as  to  study,  and  his  laugh  on  the  playground  was  as  merry  as 
any.  His  cheerful,  obliging  disposition  made  him  a  favorite 
with  his  companions.  Only  George  Dawkins  held  out ;  he  had, 
for  some  reason,  imbibed  a  dislike  for  Paul. 

Paul's  industry  was  not  without  effect.  He  gradually  gained 
position  in  his  class. 

*' Take  care,  Dawkins,"  said  one  of  his  companions  —  the 
same  one  who  had  before  spoken  to  Paul — "Paul  Prescott 
will  be  disputing  your  place  with  you.  He  has  come  up  seven- 
teen places  in  a  month." 

"Much  good  it'll  do  him,"   said  Dawkins,  contemptuously. 

**  For  all  that,  you  will  have  to  be  careful ;  I  can  tell  you 
that." 

"I'm  not  In  the  least  afraid.  I'm  a  little  too  firm  in  my 
position  to  be  ousted  by  Young  Stupid." 

"  Just  wait  and  see." 

Dawkins  really  entertained  no  apprehension.  He  had  un- 
bounded confidence  in  himself,  and  felt  a  sense  of  power  in  the 
rapidity  with  which  he  could  master  a  lesson.  He  therefore 
did  not  study  much,  and  though  he  could  not  but  see  that  Paul 
was  rapidly  advancing,  he  rejected  with  scorn  the  idea  that 
Young  Stupid  could  displace  him. 

This,  however,  was  the  object  at  which  Paul  was  aiming. 
Uc  bad  not  forgotten  the  nickname  which  Dawkins  had  given 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  109 

him,  and  this  was  the  revenge  which  he  sought,  —  a  strictly 
honorable  one. 

At  length  the  day  of  his  triumph  came.     At  tne  end  of  the 
month  the  master  read  oflf  the  class-list,  and,  muen  to  his  dis- 
gust, George  Dawkins  found  himself  playurg  seoan*?  fictdtb  to 
Young  Stupid. 
19 


xvn. 

ben's  practical  joke. 

Mrs.  Mudge  was  in  the  back  room,  bending  over  \  tub.  It 
was  washing-day,  and  she  was  particularly  busy.  She  was  a 
driving,  bustling  woman,  and,  whatever  might  be  her  faults  of 
temper,  she  was  at  least  industrious  and  energetic.  Had  JNIr. 
Mudge  been  equally  so,  they  would  have  been  better  off  in  a 
worldly  point  of  view.  But  her  husband  was  constitutionally 
lazy,  and  was  never  disposed  to  do  more  than  was  needful. 

Mrs.  Mudge  was  in  a  bad  humor  that  morning.  One  of  the 
cows  had  got  into  the  garden  through  a  gap  in  the  fence,  and 
made  sad  havoc  among  the  cabbages.  Now  if  Mrs.  Mudge 
had  a  weakness,  it  was  for  cabbages.  She  was  excessively 
fond  of  them,  and  had  persuaded  her  husband  to  set  out  a 
large  number  of  plants  from  which  she  expected  a  large  crop. 
They  were  planted  in  one  corner  of  the  garden,  adjoining  a 
piece  of  land,  which,  since  mowing,  had  been  used  for  pasturing 
the  cows.  There  was  a  weak  place  in  the  fence  separating 
the  two  inclosures,  and  this  Mrs.  Mudge  had  requested  her 
husband  to  attend  to.  He  readily  promised  this,  and  Mrs. 
Mudge  supposed  it  done,  until  that  same  morning,  her  sharp 
eyes  had  detected  old  Brindle  munching  the  treasured  cabbages 
with  a  provoking  air  of  enjoyment.  The  angry  lady  seized  a 
broom,  and  repaired  quickly  to  the  scene  of  devastation. 
Brindle  scented  the  danger  from  afar,  and  beat  a  disorderly 
retreat,  trampling  down  the  cabbages  which  fhe  had  hitherto 


Px\uL  prescott's  charge.  Ill 

spared.  Leaping  over  the  broken  fence,  she  had  just  cleared 
the  gap  as  the  broom-handle,  missing  her,  came  forcibly  down 
upon  the  rail,  and  was  snapped  in  sunder  by  the  blow. 

Here  was  a  new  vexation.  Brindle  had  not  only  escaped 
scot-free,  but  the  broom,  a  new  one,  bought  only  the  week 
before,  was  broken. 

**  It 's  a  plaguy  shame,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  angrily.  ♦'  There 's 
my  best  broom  broken  ;  cost  forty-two  cents  only  last  week." 

She  turned  and  contemplated  the  scene  of  devastation.  This 
yielded  her  little  consolation. 

*'  At  least  thirty  cabbages  destroyed  by  that  scamp  of  a  cow," 
she  exclaimed  in  a  tone  bordering  on  despair.  *'  I  wish  I'd  a 
hit  her.  If  I'd  broken  my  broom  over  her  back  I  would  n't  a 
cared  so  much.  And  it 's  all  Mudge's  fault.  He 's  the  most 
shiftless  man  I  ever  see.  I  '11  give  him  a  dressing  down,  see  if 
I  don't." 

Mrs.  Mudge's  eyes  snapped  viciously,  and  she  clutched  the 
relics  of  the  broom  with  a  degree  of  energy  which  rendered  it 
uncertain  what  sort  of  a  dressing  down  she  intended  for  her 
husband. 

Ten  minutes  after  she  had  re-entered  the  kitchen,  the  luck- 
less man  made  his  appearance.  He  wore  his  usual  look,  little 
dreaming  of  the  storm  that  awaited  him. 

*'  I  'm  glad  you  've  come,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  grimly. 

**  What 's  amiss,  now  ?  "  inquired  Mudge,  for  he  understood 
her  look. 

"What's  amiss?"  blazed  Mrs.  Mudge.  **I'll  let  you 
know.     Do  you  see  this  ?  " 

She  seized  the  broken  broom  and  flourished  it  In  his  face. 

** Broken  your  broom,  have  you?  You  must  have  been 
careless." 

**  Careless,  was  I?"  demanded  Mrs.  Mudge,  sarcastically, 
*•  Yes,  of  course,  it's  always  I  that  am  in  fault." 

*'  You  have  n't  broken  It  over  the  back  of  any  of  the  paupers, 
have  you?"  asked  her  husband,  who,  knowing  his  belpmeet't 


112  PAUL  prescott's   charge. 

infirmity  of  temper,  thought  it  possible  she  might  have  indulged 
in  such  an  amusement. 

'*  If  I  had  broken  it  over  anybody's  back  it  would  have  been 
yours,"  said  the  lady. 

*'  Mine  !  what  have  I  been  doing  ?  " 

"It's  what  you  haven't  done,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  **  You're 
about  the  laziest  and  most  shiftless  man  I  ever  came  across." 

**  Come,  what  does  all  this  mean?  "  demanded  Mr.  Mudge, 
who  was  getting  a  little  angry  in  his  turn. 

**I'll  let  you  know.  Just  look  out  of  that  window,  will 
you  ?  " 

*'  Well,"  said  Mr.  Mudge,  innocently,  *•  I  don't  see  anything 
in  particular.'* 

*' You  don't!"  said  Mrs.  Mudge  with  withering  sarcasm, 
*'  Then  you  'd  better  put  on  your  glasses.  If  you  'd  been  here 
quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  you  'd  have  seen  Brindle  among  the 
cabbages." 

**  Did  she  do  any  harm? "  asked  Mr.  Mudge,  hastily. 

*'  There 's  scarcely  a  cabbage  left,"  returned  Mrs.  Mudge, 
purposely   exaggerating    the  mischief  done. 

*'  If  you  had  mended  that  fence,  as  I  told  you  to  do,  time 
and  again,  it  would  n't  have  happened." 

*'  You  did  n't  tell  me  but  once,"  said  ]Mr.  Mudge,  trying  to 
get  up  a  feeble  defence. 

**  Once  should  have  been  enough,  and  more  than  enough. 
You  expect  me  to  slave  myself  to  death  in  the  house,  and  see 
to  all  your  work  besides.  If  I  'd  known  what  a  lazy,  shiftless 
man  you  were,  at  the  time  I  married  you,  I  'd  have  cut  oflf  my 
right  hand  first." 

By  this  time  Mr.  Mudge  had  become  angry. 

**  If  you  hadn't  married  me,  you'  a  died  an  old  maid,"  he 
retorted. 

This  was  too  much  for  Mrs.  Mudge  to  bear.  She  snatched 
the  larger  half  of  the  broom,  and  fetched  it  down  with  consid- 
erable emphasis  upon  the  back  of  her  liege  lord,  who,  percoiv- 


PAUL    PRESCOTT's    CHARGE.  113 

ing  that  her  temper  was  up,  retreated  hastily  from  the  kitchen ; 
as  he  got  into  the  yard  he  descried  Brindle,  whose  appetite  had 
been  whetted  by  her  previous  raid,  re-entering  the  gai*den 
through  the  gap. 

It  was  an  unfortunate  attempt  on  the  part  of  Brindle.  Mr. 
Mudge,  angry  with  his  wife,  and  smarting  with  the  blow 
from  the  broomstick,  determined  to  avenge  himself  upon  the 
original  cause  of  all  the  trouble.  Revenge  suggested  craft. 
He  seized  a  hoe,  and  crept  stealthily  to  the  cabbage-plot. 
Brindle,  whose  back  was  turned,  did  not  perceive  his  approach, 
until  she  felt  a  shower  of  blows  upon  her  back.  Confused  at 
the  unexpected  attack  she  darted  wildly  away,  forgetting  the 
gap  in  the  force,  and  raced  at  random  over  beds  of  vegetables, 
uprooting  beets,  pai'sneps,  and  turnips,  while  Mr.  Mudge,  mad 
with  rage,  followed  close  in  her  track,  hitting  her  with  the  hoe 
whenever  he  got  a  chance. 

Brindle  galloped  through  the  yard,  and  out  at  the  open  gate. 
Thence  she  ran  up  the  road  at  the  top  of  her  speed,  with  Mr. 
Mudge  still  pursuing  her. 

It  may  be  mentioned  here  that  Mr.  Mudge  was  compelled 
to  chase  the  terrified  cow  over  two  miles  before  he  succeeded 
with  the  help  of  a  neighbor  in  capturing  her.  All  this  took 
time.  Meanwhile  Mrs.  Mudge  at  home  was  subjected  to  vet 
another  trial  of  her  temper. 

It  has  already  been  mentioned  that  Squire  Newcome  was 
Chairman  of  the  Overseers  of  the  Poor.  In  virtue  of  his  office, 
he  was  expected  to  exercise  a  general  supervision  over  the 
Almshouse  and  its  management.  It  was  his  custom  to  call 
about  once  a  month  to  look  after  matters,  and  ascertain  wheth- 
er any  official  action  or  interference  was  needed. 

Ben  saw  his  father  take  his  gold-headed  cane  from  behind 
the  door,  and  start  down  the  road.     He  understood  his  desti- 
nation, and  instattly  the  plan  of  a  stupendoas  practical  joke 
dawned  upon  him. 
10* 


114  PAUL    PRESCOTl's    CHARGE. 

*'It'll  be  jolly  fun,"  he  said  to  himself,  his  eyes  dancing 
with  fun.     "  1 11  try  it,  anyway." 

He  took  his  way  across  the  fields,  so  as  to  reach  the  Alms- 
house before  his  father.  He  then  commenced  his  plan  of  op- 
erations. 

Mrs.  Mudge  had  returned  to  her  tub,  and  was  washing  away 
with  bitter  energy,  thinking  over  her  grievances  in  the  matter 
of  Mr.  Mudge,  when  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  front  door. 

Taking  her  hands  from  the  tub,  she  wiped  them  on  her 
apron. 

'*  I  wish  folks  would  n't  come  on  washing  day ! "  she  said  in  fi, 
tone  of  vexation. 

She  went  to  the  door  and  opened  it. 

There  was  nobody  there. 

**  I  thought  somebody  knocked,"  thought  she,  a  little  mys- 
tified.    "  Perhaps  I  was  mistaken." 

She  went  back  to  her  tub,  and  had  no  sooner  got  her  hands 
in  the  suds  than  another  knock  was  heard,  this  time  on  the 
back  door. 

"I  declare!"  said  she,  in  increased  vexation,  **  There's 
another  knock.     I  shan't  get  through  my  washing  to-day." 

Again  Mrs.  Mudge  wiped  her  hands  on  her  apron,  and  went 
to  the  door. 

There  was  nobody  there. 

I  need  hardly  say  that  it  was  Ben,  who  had  knocked  both 
times,  and  instantly  dodged  round  the  corner  of  the  house. 

**  It's  some  plaguy  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  her  eyes  blazing 
with  anger.     *'  O,  if  I  could  only  get  hold  of  him ! " 

*' Don't  you  wish  you  could?"  chuckled  Ben  to  himself,  as 
he  caught  a  sly  glimpse  of  the  indignant  woman. 

Meanwhile,  Squire  Newcome  had  walked  along  in  his  usual 
slow  and  dignified  manner,  until  he  reached  the  front  door  of 
the  Poorhouse,  and  knocked. 

**  It 's  that  plaguy  boy  again,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  furiously^ 
**  I  won't  go  this  time,  but  if  he  knocks  again,  I  '11  fix  him.'* 


The  Squire's  Missfortune. 


PAUL   PRESCOTT'S    CHARGE.  115 

She  took  a  dipper  full  of  hot  suds  from  the  tub  In  which  she 
had  been  washing,  and  crept  carefully  into  the  entry,  taking  up 
a  station  close  to  the  front  door. 

*•  I  wonder  if  Mrs.  Mudge  heard  me  knock,"  thought  Squire 
Newcome.  "I  should  think  she  might.  I  believe  I  will 
knock  again." 

This  time  he  knocked  with  his  cane.  1 

Rat-tat-tat  sounded  on  the  door. 

The  echo  had  not  died  away,  when  the  door  was  pulled 
suddenly  open,  and  a  dipper  full  of  hot  suds  was  dashed  into 
the  face  of  the  astonished  Squire,  accompanied  with,  **  Take 
that,  you  young  scamp  !  " 

*'Wh  —  what  does  all  this  mean?"  gasped  Squire  New- 
come,  nearly  strangled  with  the  suds,  a  part  of  which  had  found 
its  way  into  his  mouth. 

"  1  beg  your  pardon.  Squire  Newcome,"  said  the  horrified 
Mrs.  Mudge.     *'  I  did  n't  mean  it." 

*'  What  did  you  mean,  then.?  "  demanded  Squire  Newcome, 
sternly.     ♦'  I  think  you  addressed  me, —  ahem  !  —  as  a  scamp." 

*'  O,  I  did  n't  mean  you,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  almost  out  of 
her  wits  with  perplexity.  **  Come  in,  sir,  and  let  me  give  you 
a  towel.     You  've  no  idea  how  I  've  been  tried  this  morning." 

*'  I  trust,"  said  the  Squire,  in  his  stateliest  tone,  **you  will 
be  able  to  give  a  satisfactory  explanation  of  this,  ahem  —  ex- 
traordinary proceeding." 

While  Mrs.  Mudge  was  endeavoring  to  soothe  the  ruffled 
dignity  of  the  aggrieved  Squire,  the  "  young  scamp,"  who  had 
caused  all  the  mischief,  made  his  escape  through  the  fields. 

•'  O,  was  n't  it  bully  ! "  he  exclaimed.  ♦'  I  believe  I  shall  dia 
of  laughing.  I  wish  Paul  had  been  here  to  see  it.  Mrs. 
Mudge  has  got  herself  into  a  scrape,  now,  I  'm  thinking. 

Having  attained  a  safe  distance  from  the  Poorhouse,  Beu 
doubled  himself  up  and  rolled  over  and  over  upon  the  grass, 
convulsed  with  laughter. 

*'I'd  give  five  dollars  to  see  it  all  over  again,"  he  said  to 
himself.     "  I  never  had  such  splendid  fun  in  my  life." 


116  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

Presently  the  Squire  emerged,  his  tall  dicky  looking  de- 
cidedly limp  and  drooping,  his  face  expressing  annoyance  and 
outraged  dignity.  Mrs.  Mudge  attended  him  to  the  door 
with  an  expression  of  anxious  concern. 

•*  I  guess  I  'd  better  make  tracks,"  said  Ben  to  himself,  "  it 
won't  do  for  the  old  gentleman  to  see  me  here,  or  he  may 
smell  a  rat." 

He  accordingly  scrambled  over  a  stone  wall  and  lay  quietly 
hidden  behind  it  till  he  judged  it  would  be  safe  to  make  his 
appearanoQ. 


CHAPTEE   XVIU. 

MORE   ABOUT  BEN. 

**  Benjamin,"  said  Squire  Newcome,  two  days  after  the  oc- 
currence mentioned  in  the  last  chapter,  "  what  made  the  dog 
howl  so  this  morning  ?     Was  you  a  doing  anything  to  him  ?  " 

**Igave  him  his  breakfast,"  said  Ben,  innocently.  "Per- 
haps he  was  hungry,  and  howling  for  that." 

•'  I  do  not  refer  to  that,"  said  the  Squire.  **  He  howled  as 
if  in  pain  or  terror.  I  repeat ;  was  you  a  doing  anything  to 
him?" 

Ben  shifted  from  one  foot  to  the  other,  and  looked  out  of 
the  window. 

*•  I  desire  a  categorical  answer,"  said  Squire  Newcome. 

**  I  don't  know  what  categorical  means,"  said  Ben,  assuming 
a  perplexed  look. 

**  I  desire  you  to  answer  me  immegiately ^"^  explained  the 
Squire.     '*  What  was  you  a  doing  to  Watch  ?  " 

"  I  was  tying  a  tin-kettle  to  his  tail,"  said  Ben,  a  little  re* 
luctantly. 

'*  And  what  was  you  a  doing  that  for?  "  pursued  the  Squire. 

**  I  wanted  to  see  how  he  would  look,"  said  Ben,  glancing 
demurely  at  his  father,  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

*'  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  it  must  be  disagreeable  to 
Watch  to  have  such  an  appendage  to  his  tail  ?  "  queried  the 
Squire. 

*'  I  don't  know,"  said  Ben. 


118  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

**  How  should  you  like  to  have  a  tin  pail  suspended  to  your 
—  ahem !  your  coat  tail  ?  " 

**  I  hav  n't  got  any  coat  tail,"  said  Ben.  **  I  wear  jackets. 
But  I  think  I  am  old  enough  to  wear  coats.  Can't  I  have  one 
made,  father?" 

**Ahem!"  said  the  Squire,  blowing  his  nose,  **we  will 
speak  of  that  at  some  future  period." 

"Fred  Newell  wears  a  coat,  and  he  isn't  any  older  than  I 
am,"  persisted  Ben,  who  was  desirous  of  interrupting  his  fath- 
er's inquiries. 

*'  I  apprehend  that  we  are  wandering  from  the  question,'' 
Baid  the  Squire.  '*  Would  you  like  to  be  treated  as  you 
treated  Watch  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Ben,  slowly,  "  I  don't  know  as  I  should." 

*'Then  take  care  not  to  repeat  your  conduct  of  this  morn- 
ing," said  his  father.  "  Stay  a  moment,"  as  Ben  was  about 
to  leave  the  room  hastily.  *'  I  desire  that  you  should  go  to 
the  Post-office  and  inquire  for  letters." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Ben  left  the  room  and  sauntered  out  in  the  direction  of  the 
Post-office. 

A  chaise,  driven  by  a  stranger,  stopped  as  it  came  up  with 
him. 

The  driver  looked  towards  Ben,  and  inquired,  '*  Boy,  is  thia 
the  way  to  Sparta  ?  " 

Ben,  who  was  walking  leisurely  along  the  path,  whistling  as 
he  went,  never  turned  his  head. 

♦*Are  you  deaf,  boy?"  said  the  driver,  unpatiently.  **  I 
want  to  know  if  this  is  the  road  to  Sparta  ?  " 

Ben  turned  round. 

"  Fine  morning,  sir,"  he  said  politely. 

**  I  know  that  well  enough  without  your  telling  me.  Will 
you  tell  me  whether  this  is  the  road  to  Sparta  ?  " 

Ben  put  his  hand  to  his  ear,  and  seemed  to  listen  attentively. 


PAUL    PRESCOTT's    CHARGE.  119 

Then  he  slowly  shook  his  head,  and  said,  *'  Would  you  be  kind 
enough  to  speak  a  little  louder,  sir?" 

**  The  boy  is  deaf,  after  all,"  said  the  driver  to  himself. 

*'  Is  THIS  THE  ROAD  TO  SpARTA  ?  " 

•'  Yes  sir,  this  is  Wrenville,"  said  Ben,  politely. 

»Tlague  take  it!  he  don't  hear  me  yet.  IS  THIS  THE 
ROAD  TO  SPARTA?" 

*'  Just  a  little  louder,  if  you  please,"  said  Ben,  keeping  his 
hand  to  his  ear,  and  appearing  anxious  to  hear. 

"Deaf  as  a  post!"  muttered  the  driver.  *'I  couldn't 
scream  any  louder,  if  I  should  try.     Go  along." 

*'  Poor  man  !  I  hope  he  has  n't  injured  his  voice,"  thought 
Ben,  his  eyes  dancing  with  fun.  ''By  gracious  !  "  he  contin- 
ued a  moment  later,  bursting  into  a  laugh,  '♦  if  he  isn't  going 
to  ask  the  way  of  old  Tom  Haven.  He 's  as  deaf  as  I  pretend- 
ed to  be." 

The  driver  had  reined  up  again,  and  inquired  the  way  to 
Sparta. 

*'  What  did  you  say?"  said  the  old  man,  putting  his  hand 
to  his  ear.     "  I  'm  rather  hard  of  hearing." 

The  traveller  repeated  his  question  in  a  louder  voice. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head. 

*♦  I  guess  you  'd  better  ask  that  boy,"  he  said,  pointing  to 
Ben,  who  by  this  time  had  nearly  come  up  with  the  chaise. 

"I  have  had  enough  of  him,"  said  the  traveller,  disgusted. 
*'  I  believe  you  're  all  deaf  in  this  town.  I'll  get  out  of  it  as 
soon  as  possible." 

He  whipped  up  his  horse,  somewhat  to  the  old  man's  sur- 
prise, and  drove  rapidly  away. 

I  desire  my  young  readers  to  understand  that  I  am  describ- 
ing Ben  as  he  was,  and  not  as  he  ought  to  be.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  he  carried  his  love  of  fun  too  far.  We  will  hope 
that  as  he  grows  older,  he  will  grow  wiser. 

Ben  pursued  the  remainder  of  his  way  to  the  Post-office 
without  any  further  adventure. 


120  PAUL    PKESCOll'S    CnALGE. 

Entering  a  small  building  appropriated  to  this  purpose,  he 
inquired  for  letters. 

*' There  ^s  nothing  for  your  father  to-day,"  said  the  post- 
master. 

"  Perhaps  there's  something  for  me,  — Benjamin  Newcome, 
Esq.,"  said  Ben. 

"Let  me  see,"  said  the  post-master,  putting  on  his  specta- 
cles; "  yes,  I  believe  there  is.  Post-marked  at  New  York, 
too.     I  did  n't  know  you  had  any  correspondents  there." 

"  It's  probably  from  the  Mayor  of  New  York,"  said  Ben, 
in  a  tone  of  comical  importance,  '*  asking  my  advice  about 
laying  out  Central  Park." 

"Probably  it  is,"  said  the  post-master.  **  It's  a  pretty  thick 
letter,  —  looks  like  an  official  document." 

By  this  time,  Ben,  who  was  really  surprised  by  the  recep- 
tion of  the  letter,  had  opened  it.  It  proved  to  be  from  our 
hero,  Paul  Prescott,  and  inclosed  one  for  Aunt  Lucy. 

**  Mr.  Crosby,"  said  Ben,  suddenly,  addressing  the  post- 
master, "you  remember  about  Paul  Prescott's  running  away 
from  the  Poorhouse  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did  n't  blame  the  poor  boy  a  bit.  I  never  liked 
Mudge,  and  they  say  his  wife  is  worse  than  he." 

"  Well,  suppose  the  town  should  find  out  where  he  is,  could 
they  get  him  back  again  ?  " 

"Bless  you!  no.  They  ain't  so  fond  of  supporting  pau- 
pers. If  he's  able  to  earn  his  own  living,  they  won't  want  to 
interfere  with  him." 

"  Well,  this  letter  is  from  him,"  said  Ben.  **  He's  found  a 
pleasant  family  in  New  York,  who  have  adopted  him." 

"I'm  glad  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Crosby,  heartily.  "I  always 
liked  him.     He  was  a  fine  fellow." 

"That's  just  what  I  think.  I'll  read  his  letter  to  you,  if 
5  ou  would  like  to  hear  it." 

"  I  should,  very  much.     Come  in  behind  here,  and  sit  down." 
Ben  went  inside  the  office,  and  sitting  do  vn  on  a  stool,  read 


PAUL    PRESCOTT'S    CHARGE.  121 

Paul's  letter.  As  our  reader  may  be  interested  In  the  contents, 
we  will  take  the  liberty  of  looking  ovtr  Ben's  shoulder  while 
he  reads. 

New  York,  Oct.  10,  18—. 

Deak  Ben  :  —  .  r,  r        i        •  ^ 

I  have  been  intending  to  write  to  you  before  knowing 
the  kind  interest  which  you  take  in  me  I  got  safely  to  New 
York  a  few  days  after  I  left  WrenviUe.  I  did  n  t  have  so  hard 
a  time  as  I  expected,  having  fallen  in  with  a  pedler,  who  was 
very  kind  to  me,  with  whom  I  rode  thirty  or  forty  miles.  I  wish 
I  had  time  to  tell  all  the  adventures  I  met  with  on  the  way, 
but  I  must  wait  till  I  see  you.  .  ,    w    .:   ^  u       i      « 

When  I  got  to  the  city,  I  was  astonished  to  find  how  large 
it  was  The  first  day  I  got  pretty  tired  wandering  about,  and 
strayed  Into  a  church  in  the  evening,  not  knowing  wnere  else 
to  ^o  I  was  so  tired  I  fell  asleep  there,  and  did  n^t  wake  up 
tiirmorning.  When  I  found  myself  locked  up  in  a  great 
church,  I  was  fri-htened,  I  can  tell  you.  It  was  only  Thurs- 
dav  morniii'^  and  I  was  afraid  I  should  have  to  stay  there  till 
Sunday  If  I  had,  I  am  afraid  I  should  have  starved  to 
death  But,  fortunately  for  me,  the  sexton  came  in  the  morn- 
inc'  and  let  me  out.  That  wasn^t  all.  He  very  kindly  took 
me  home  with  him,  and  then  told  me  I  might  live  with  him  and 
eo  to  school.  I  like  hhn  very  much,  and  his  wife  too.  i  call 
them  Uncle  Hugh  and  Aunt  Hester.     W^hen  you  write  to  me, 

you  must  direct  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Hugh  Cameron,  10  K 

Street.     Then  it  will  be  sure  to  reach  me. 

I  am  going  to  one  of  the  city  schools.  At  first,  1  was  a 
cood  deal  troubled  because  I  was  so  far  behind  boys  of  my 
ao-e  You  know  I  had  n^t  been  to  school  for  a  long-time  before 
lleft  WVenville,  on  account  of  father's  sickness.  But  I  studied 
pretty  hard,  and  now  I  stand  very  well.  I  sometimes  think, 
Ben  that  you  don't  care  quite  so  much  about  study  as  you 
ou^ht  to.  I  wish  you  would  come  to  feel  the  importance  of  it. 
Yo"u  must  excuse  me  saying  this,  as  we  have  always  been  such 
oood  friends.  ■•  j 

I  sometimes  think  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mudge,  and  wonder 
whether  thev  miss  me  much.  I  am  sure  Mr.  Mudge  misses  me, 
for  now  he  is  obliged  to  get  up  early  and  milk,  unless  he  has 
found  another  boy  to  do  it.  If  he  has,  I  pity  the  boy.  Write 
ine  what  they  said  about  my  going  away. 
11 


122  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

I  inclose  a  letter  for  Aunt  Lucy  Lee,  which  I  should  like  to 
have  you  give  her  with  your  own  hands.  Don't  trust  it  to 
Mrs.  Mudge,  for  she  does  n't  like  Aunt  Lucy,  and  I  don't 
think  she  would  give  it  to  her. 

Write  soon,  Ben,  and  I  will  answer  without  delay. 
Your  affectionate  Iriend, 

Paul  Prescott. 

**  That 's  a  very  good  letter,"  said  Mr.  Crosby ;  *'  I  am  glad 
Paul  is  doing  so  well.     I  should  like  to  see  him." 

•'  So  should  I,"  said  Ben ;  **  he  was  a  prime  fellow,  —  twice 
as  good  as  I  am.  That 's  true,  what  he  said  about  my  not  liking 
study.     I  guess  I  '11  try  to  do  better." 

•'  You  '11  make  a  smart  boy  if  you  only  try,"  said  the  post- 
master, with  whom  Ben  was  rather  a  favorite,  in  spite  of  his 
mischievous  propensities. 

*'  Thank  you,"  said  Ben,  laughing,  **  that's  what  my  friend, 
the  mayor  of  New  York,  often  writes  me.  But  honestly,  I 
know  I  can  do  a  good  deal  better  than  I  am  doing  now.  I 
don't  know  but  I  shall  turn  over  a  new  leaf.  I  suppose  I  like 
fun  a  little  too  well.  Such  jolly  sport  as  I  had  coming  to  the 
office  this  morning." 

Ben  related  the  story  of  the  traveller  who  Inquired  the  way 
to  Sparta,  much  to  the  amusement  of  the  postmaster,  who,  in  his 
enjoyment  of  the  joke,  forgot  to  tell  Ben  that  his  conduct  was 
hardly  justifiable. 

**  Now,"  said  Ben,  '*  as  soon  as  I  have  been  home,  I  must  go 
and  see  my  particular  friend,  Jlrs.  Mudge.  I'm  a  great 
favorite  of  hers,"  he  added,  with  a  sly  wink. 


XIX. 

MRS.    MUDGE's   discomfiture. 

Ben  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  Poorhouse.  In  due  time 
Mrs.  Mudge  appeared.  She  was  a  little  alarmed  on  seeing 
Ben,  not  knowing  how  Squire  Newcome  might  be  affected  by 
the  reception  she  had  given  him  on  his  last  visit.  Accordingly 
she  received  him  with  unusual  politeness, 

*'  How  do  you  do.  Master  Newcome  ?  ^*  she  inquired. 

**  As  well  as  could  be  expected,"  said  Ben,  hesitatingly. 

**  Why,  is  there  anything  the  matter,  with  you?"  inquired 
Mrs.  Mudge,  her  curiosity  excited  by  his  manner  of  speaking. 

**  No  one  can  tell  what  I  suffer  from  rheumatism,"  said  Ben, 
Badly. 

This  was  very  true,  since  not  even  Ben  himself  could  have 
told. 

*'  You  are  very  young  to  be  troubled  in  that  way,"  said  Mrs. 
Mudge,  "and  how  is  your  respected  father,  to-day?  "  she  in- 
quired, with  some  anxiety. 

"  I  was  just  going  to  ask  you,  Mrs.  Mudge,"  said  Ben, 
**  whether  anything  happened  to  disturb  him  when  he  called 
here  day  before  yesterday  ?" 

•*  Why,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  turning  a  little  pale,  "Nothing 
of  any  consequence,  —  that  is,  not  much.  What  makes  you 
ask?" 

**  I  thought  It  might  be  so  from  his  manner,"  said  Ben,  en- 
joy iag  Mrs.  Mudge's  evident  alarm. 


124  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

"  There  was  a  little  accident,"  said  Mrs.  Mud^je,  reluctantly. 
"  Some  mischievous  boy  had  been  knocking  and  running  away ; 
80,  when  your  father  knocked,  I  thought  it  might  be  he,  and  — 
and  I  believe  I  threw  some  water  on  him.  But  I  hope  he  has 
forgiven  it,  as  it  was  n't  intentional.  I  should  like  to  get  hold 
of  that  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  wrathfuUy,  *'  I  should  like  to 
ihake  him  up." 

**  Have  you  any  idea  who  it  was  ?  "  asked  Ben,  gravely. 

•*  No,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  -•  1  haven't,  but  I  shall  try  to  find 
out.     Whoever  it  is,  he 's  a  scamp." 

**  Very  complimentary',  old  lady,"  thought  Ben.  He  said  in 
a  sober  tone,  which  would  have  imposed  upon  any  one,  *•  There 
are  a  good  many  mischievous  boys  around  here." 

Mrs.  Mudge  grimly  assented. 

*♦  Oh,  by  the  way,  Mrs.  Mudge,"  asked  Ben,  suddenly,  *•  have 
you  ever  heard  anything  of  Paul  Prescott  since  he  left  you  ?  " 

*'  No,"  snapped  Mrs.  Mudge,  her  countenance  growing  dark, 
**  I  have  n't.     But  I  can  tell  pretty  well  where  he  is." 

**  Where?" 

**  In  the  penitentiary.  At  any  rate,  if  he  is  n't,  he  ought  to 
be.     But  what  was  you  wanting  ? " 

**  I  want  to  see  Mrs.  Lee." 

**  Aunt  Lucy  Lee  ?  " 

*•  Yes.     I  've  got  a  letter  for  her." 

*♦  If  you  "11  give  me  the  letter  I  '11  carry  it  to  her." 

•  Thank  you,"  said  Ben,  *'  but  I  would  like  to  see  her." 

**  Never  mind,"  thought  Mrs.  Mudge,  *'  I'll  get  hold  of  it 
yet.    I  should  n't  wonder  at  all  if  it  was  from  that  rascal,  Paul." 

Poor  Paul !  It  was  fortunate  that  he  had  some  better  friends 
than  Mr.  and  IMrs.  Mudge,  otherwise  he  would  have  been 
pretty  poorly  off. 

Aunt  Lucy  came  to  the  door.  Ben  placed  the  letter  in  her 
hands. 

*•  Is  it  from  Paul?"  she  asked,  hopefully. 

"  Yes,"  said  Ben. 

She  opened  it  eagerly.     **  Is  he  well  ?  "  she  asked. 


PAIIL  PRESCOrT'S   CHARGE.  125 

"  Yes,  well  and  happy,"  said  Ben,  who  treated  the  old  lady, 
for  whom  he  had  much  respect,  very  diifervintly  from  Mrs. 
Mudge. 

*'  I  'm  truly  thankful  for  that,"  said  Aunt  Lucy ;  "I've  laid 
awake  more  than  one  night  thinking  of  him." 

**  So  has  Mrs.  Mudge,  I  'm  thinking,"  said  Ben,  slyly. 

Aunt  Lucy  laughed. 

**  There  isn't  much  love  lost  between  them,"  said  Aunt  Lucy, 
smiling.     *'  He  was  very  badly  treated  here,  poor  boy." 

**  Was  he,  though?"  repeated  Mrs.  Mudge,  who  had  been 
listening  at  the  keyhole,  but  not  in  an  audible  voice.  "Per- 
haps he  will  be  again,  if  I  get  him  back.  I  thought  that  letter 
was  from  Paul.     I  must  get  hold  of  it  some  time  to-day." 

"  I  believe  I  must  go,"  said  Ben.  **  If  you  answer  the  letter, 
I  will  put  it  into  the  office  for  you.  I  shall  be  passing  here 
to-morrow." 

*'  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Aunt  Lucy.  **  I  am  very  much 
obliged  to  you  for  bringing  me  this  letter  to-day.  You  can't 
tell  how  happy  it  makes  me.  I  have  been  so  afraid  the  dear 
boy  might  be  suffering." 

"  It 's  no  trouble  at  all,"  said  Ben. 

*•  She's  a  pretty  good  woman,"  thought  he,  as  he  left  the 
Louse.  "I  wouldn't  play  a  trick  on  her  for  a  good  deal. 
But  that  Mrs.  Mudge  is  a  hard  case.  I  wonder  what  she  would 
have  said  if  she  had  known  that  I  was  the  "scamp"  that 
troubled  her  so  much  Monday.  If  I  had  such  a  mother  as 
that,  by  jingo,  I'd  run  away  to  sea." 

Mrs.  Mudge  was  bent  upon  reading  Aunt  Lucy's  letter. 
Knowing  it  to  be  from  Paul,  she  had  a  strong  curiosity  to  know 
what  had  become  of  him.  If  she  could  only  get  him  back ! 
Her  heart  bounded  with  delight  as  she  thought  of  the  annoy- 
ances to  which,  in  that  case,  she  could  subject  him.  It  would 
be  a  double  triumph  over  him  and  Aunt  Lucy,  against  whom 
she  felt  that  mean  spite  with  which  a  superior  nature  is  often 
regarded  by  one  of  a  lower  order. 
11* 


126  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

After  some  reflection,  Mrs.  Mudge  concluded  that  Aunt  Lucy 
would  probably  leave  the  letter  in  the  little  chest  which  war 
appropriated  to  her  use,  and  which  was  kept  in  the  room  where 
she  slept.  The  key  of  this  chest  had  been  lost,  and  although 
Aunt  Lucy  had  repeatedly  requested  that  a  new  one  should  be 
obtained,  Mrs.  kludge  had  seen  fit  to  pay  no  attention  to  her 
request,  as  it  would  interfere  with  purposes  of  her  own,  the 
character  of  which  may  easily  be  guessed. 

As  she  suspected,  Paul's  letter  had  been  deposited  in  this 
chest. 

Accordingly,  the  same  afternoon,  she  left  her  work  in  the 
kitchen  in  order  to  institute  a  search  for  it.  As  a  pnident  pre- 
caution, however,  she  just  opened  the  door  of  the  common 
room,  to  make  sure  that  Aunt  Lucy  was  at  work  therein. 

She  made  her  way  up  stairs,  and  entering  the  room  in  which 
the  old  lady  lodged,  together  with  two  others,  she  at  once  went 
to  the  chest  and  opened  it. 

She  began  to  rummage  round  among  the  old  lady's  scanty 
treasures,  and  at  length,  much  to  her  joy,  happened  upon  the 
letter,  laid  carefully  away  in  one  corner  of  the  chest.  She 
knew  it  was  the  one  she  sought,  from  the  recent  postmark, 
and  the  address,  which  was  in  the  unformed  handwriting  of  a 
boy.  To  make  absolutely  certain,  she  drew  the  letter  from 
the  envelope  and  looked  at  *he  signature. 

She  was  right,  as  she  saw  at  a  glance.     It  was  from  Paul. 

*•  Now  I'll  see  what  the  little  rascal  has  to  say  for  himself," 
she  muttered,  **  I  hope  he 's  in  distress  ;  oh,  how  I'd  like  to 
get  hold  of  him." 

Mrs.  Mudge  began  eagerly  to  read  the  letter,  not  dreaming 
of  interruption.  But  she  was  destined  to  be  disappointed. 
To  account  for  this  we  must  explain  that,  shortly  after  Mrs. 
Mudge  looked  into  the  common  room.  Aunt  Lucy  was  re- 
minded of  something  essential,  which  she  had  left  up  stairs. 
She  accordingly  laid  down  her  work  upon  the  chair  in  which 
she  had  been  sitting,  and  went  up  to  her  chamber. 


PAUL   PEESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  127 

Mrs.  INIudge  was  too  much  preoccupied  to  hear  the  advancing 
steps. 

As  the  old  lady  entered  the  chamber,  what  was  her  mingled 
indignation  and  dismay  at  seeing  Mrs.  Mudge  on  her  knees 
before  her  chest,  with  the  precious  letter,  whose  arrival  had 
gladdened  her  so  mu  ih,  in  her  hands. 

*' What  are  you  doing  there,  Mrs.  Mudge?"  she  said, 
sternly. 

Mrs.  Mudge  rose  from  her  knees  in  confusion.  Even  she 
had  the  grace  to  be  ashamed  of  her  conduct. 

"Put  down  that  letter,"  said  the  old  lady  in  an  authoritative 
voice  quite  new  to  her. 

Mrs.  Mudge,  who  had  not  yet  collected  her  scattered  senses, 
did  as  she  was  requested. 

Aunt  Lucy  walked  hastily  to  the  chest,  and  closed  it,  first 
securing  the  letter,  which  she  put  in  her  pocket. 

*•  I  hope  it  will  be  safe,  now,"  she  said,  rather  contempt- 
uously.    "Aint  you  ashamed  of  yourself,  Mrs.  Mudge  .►^" 

*•  Ashamed  of  myself !"  shrieked  that  amiable  lady,  indig- 
nant with  herself  for  having  quailed  for  a  moment  before  the 
old  lady.     '*  What  do  you  mean  — you — you  pauper  ?  " 

"  I  may  be  a  pauper,"  said  Aunt  Lucy,  calmly,  "  but  I  am 
thankful  to  say  that  I  mind  my  own  business,  and  don't  meddle 
with  other  people's  chests." 

A  red  spot  glowed  on  either  cheek  of  Mrs.  Mudge.  She 
was  trying  hard  to  find  some  vantage-ground  over  the  old 
lady. 

*'  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  I  don't  mind  my  business  ?  "  she 
blustered,  folding  her  arms  defiantly. 

*'  What  were  you  at  my  trunk  for.?"  said  the  old  lady,  sig- 
nificantly. 

*'  Because  it  was  my  duty,"  was  the  brazen  reply. 

Mrs.  Mudge  had  rapidly  determined  upon  her  line  of  defence, 
%nd  thought  it  best  to  carry  the  war  into  the  enemy's  country, 

*'  Yes,  I  felt  sure  that  your  letter  was  from  Paul  Prescott, 


128  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

and  as  he  ran  away  from  my  husband  and  me,  who  were  his 
lawful  guardians,  it  was  my  duty  to  take  that  means  of  finding 
out  where  he  is.  I  knew  that  you  were  in  league  witli  him, 
and  would  do  all  you  could  to  screen  him.  This  is  why  I  went 
to  your  chest,  and  I  would  do  h  again,  if  necessary." 

"  Perhaps  you  have  been  before,"  said  Aunt  Lucy,  scorn- 
fully. "I  think  I  understand,  now,  why  you  were  unwilling  to 
give  me  another  key.  Fortunately  there  has  been  nothing 
there  until  now  to  reward  your  search." 

**  You  impudent  trollop  !  "  shrieked  Mrs.  Mudge,  furiously. 

Her  anger  was  the  greater,  because  Aunt  Lucy  was  entirely 
correct  in  her  supposition  that  this  was  not  the  first  visit  her 
landlady  had  made  to  the  little  green  chest. 

*'  I '11  give  Paul  the  worst  whipping  he  ever  had,  when  I  get 
him  back,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  angrily. 

"  He  is  beyond  your  reach,  thank  Providence,"  said  Aunt 
Lucy,  whose  equanimity  was  not  disturbed  by  this  menace, 
which  she  knew  to  be  an  idle  one.  *'  That  is  enough  for  you 
to  know.  I  will  take  care  that  you  never  have  another  chance 
to  see  this  letter.     And  if  you  ever  go  to  my  chest  again  "  — 

*•  Well,  ma'am,  what  then  ?  " 

**  I  shall  appeal  for  protection  to  'Squire  Newcome." 

*'  Hoity,  toity,"  said  IVIrs.  Mudge,  but  she  was  a  little  alarmed, 
nevertheless,  as  such  an  appeal  would  probably  be  prejudicial 
to  her  interest. 

So  from  time  to  time  Aunt  Lucy  received,  through  Ben,  let- 
ters from  Paul,  which  kept  her  acquainted  with  his  progress  at 
school.  These  letters  were  very  precious  to  the  old  lady,  and 
she  read  them  over  many  times.  They  formed  a  bright  link  of 
interest  which  bound  her  to  the  outside  world,  and  enabled  her 
to  bear  up  with  greater  cheerfulness  against  the  tyranny  of 
Mrs.  Mudge. 


XX. 

PAUL   OBTAINS  A   SITUATION. 

The  month  after  Paul  Prescott  succeeded  In  reaching  the  head 
of  his  class,  George  Dawkins  exerted  himself  to  rise  above  him. 
He  studied  better  than  usual,  and  proved  In  truth  a  formidable 
rival.  But  Paul's  spirit  was  roused.  He  resolved  to  maintain 
his  position  If  possible.  He  had  now  become  accustomed  to 
study,  and  it  cost  him  less  effort.  When  the  end  of  the  month 
came,  there  was  considerable  speculation  in  the  minds  of  the 
boys  as  to  the  result  of  the  rivalry.  The  majority  had  faith  In 
Paul,  but  there  were  some  who,  remembering  how  long  Daw- 
kins  had  been  at  the  head  of  the  class,  thought  he  would  easily 
regain  his  lost  rank. 

The  eventful  day,  the  first  of  the  month,  at  length  came,  and 
the  class-list  was  read. 

Paul  Prescott  ranked  first. 

George  Dawkins  ranked  second. 

A  flush  spread  over  the  pale  face  of  Dawkins,  and  he  darted 
a  malignant  glance  at  Paul,  who  was  naturally  pleased  at  having 
retained  his  rank. 

Dawkins  had  his  satellites.  One  of  these  came  to  him  at 
recess,  and  expressed  his  regret  that  Dawkins  had  failed  of 
success. 

Dawkins  repelled  the  sympathy  with  cold  disdain. 

**  What  do  you  suppose  I  care  for  the  head  of  the  class  ?  "  ho 
demanded,  haughtily. 

**  I  thought  you  had  been  studying  for  it." 


130  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

•*  Ihen  you  thought  wrong.  Let  the  sexton's  son  have  it,  if 
he  wants  it.  It  would  be  of  no  use  to  me,  as  I  leave  this  school 
at  the  end  of  the  week," 

"Leave  school!" 

The  boys  gathered  about  Dawkins,  curiously. 

*'Ls  it  really  so,  Dawkins? "  they  inquired. 

**  Yes,"  said  Dawkins,  with  an  air  of  importance  ;  *'  I  shall 
go  to  a  private  school,  where  the  advantages  are  greater  than 
here.  My  father  does  not  wish  me  to  attend  a  public  school 
any  longer. 

This  statement  was  made  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  to  cover 
the  mortification  which  his  defeat  had  occasioned  him.  It 
proved  true,  however.  On  his  return  home,  Dawkins  suc- 
ceeded in  persuading  his  father  to  transfer  him  to  a  private 
school,  and  he  took  away  his  books  at  the  end  of  the  week. 
Had  he  recovered  his  lost  rank  there  is  no  doubt  that  he  would 
have  remained. 

Truth  to  tell,  there  were  few  who  mourned  much  for  the  de- 
parture of  George  Dawkins.  He  had  never  been  a  favorite.  Hia 
imperious  temper  and  arrogance  rendered  this  impossible. 

After  he  left  school,  Paul  saw  little  of  him  for  two  or 
three  years.  At  their  first  encounter  Paul  bowed  and  spoke 
pleasantly,  hut  Dawkins  looked  superciliously  at  him  without 
appearing  to  know  him. 

Paul's  face  flushed  proudly,  and  afterwards  he  abstained  from 
making  advances  which  were  likely  to  be  repulsed.  He  had 
too  much  self-respect  to  submit  voluntarily  to  such  slights. 

Meanwhile  Paul's  school  life  fled  rapidly.  It  was  a  happy 
time, — happy  in  its  freedom  from  care,  and  happy  for  liim, 
though  all  school  boys  do  not  appreciate  that  consideration,  in 
the  opportunities  for  improvement  which  it  afforded.  These 
opportunities,  it  is  only  just  to  Paul  to  say,  were  fully  improved. 
He  left  school  with  an  enviable  reputation,  and  with  the  good 
wishes  of  his  schoolmates  and  teachers. 

Paul  was  now  sixteen  years  old,  a  stout,  handsome  boy,  with 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  131 

a  frank,  open  countenance,  and  a  general  air  of  health  which 
formed  quite  a  contrast  to  the  appearance  he  presented  when 
he  lefl  the  hospitable  mansion  which  Mr.  Nicholas  Mudge  kept 
open  at  the  public  expense. 

Paul  was  now  very  desirous  of  procuring  a  situation.  He 
felt  that  it  was  time  he  was  doing  something  for  himself.  He 
was  ambitious  to  relieve  the  kind  sexton  and  his  wife  of  some 
portion,  at  least,  of  the  burden  of  his  support. 

Besides,  there  was  the  legacy  of  debt  which  his  father  had 
bequeathed  him.  Never  for  a  moment  had  Paul  forgotten  it. 
Never  for  a  moment  had  he  faltered  in  his  determination  to 
liquidate  it  at  whatever  sacrifice  to  himself. 

**  My  father's  name  shall  be  cleared,"  he  said  to  himself, 
proudly.  *'  Neither  Squire  Conant  nor  any  one  else  shall  have 
it  in  his  power  to  cast  reproach  upon  his  memory." 

The  sexton  applauded  his  purpose. 

**  You  are  quite  right,  Paul,"  he  said.  **  But  you  need  not 
feel  in  haste.  Obtain  your  education  first,  and  the  money 
will  come  by-and-by.  As  long  as  you  repay  the  amount, 
principal  and  interest,  you  will  have  done  all  that  you  are  in 
honor  bound  to  do.  Squire  Conant,  as  I  understand  from  you, 
is  a  rich  man,  so  that  he  will  experience  no  hardship  in 
waiting." 

Paul  was  now  solicitous  about  a  place.  The  sexton  had 
little  influence,  so  that  he  must  depend  mainly  upon  his  own 
inquiries. 

He  went  into  the  reading-room  of  the  Astor  House  every 
day  to  look  over  the  advertised  wants  in  the  daily  papers. 
Every  day  he  noted  down  some  addresses,  and  presented  him- 
self as  an  applicant  for  a  position.  Generally,  however,  he 
found  that  some  one  else  had  been  before  him. 

One  day  his  attention  was  drawn  to  the  following  ad- 
vertisement. 

"  Wanted.  A  smart,  active,  wide-awake  boy,  of  sixteen  or 
seventeen,  in  a  retail  dry-goods  store.  Apply  immediately 
at  —  Broadway." 


132  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

Paul  walked  up  to  the  address  mentioned.  Over  the  door 
he  read,  **  Smith  &  Thompson."  This,  then,  was  the  firm  that 
had  advertised. 

The  store  ran  back  some  distance.  There  appeared  to  be 
six  or  eight  clerks  in  attendance  upon  quite  a  respectable  num- 
ber of  customers. 

**Is  Mr.  Smith  in?"  inquired  Paul,  of  the  nearest  clerk. 

**  You  '11  find  him  at  the  lower  end  of  the  store.  How  many- 
yards,  ma'am  ?  " 

This  last  was  of  course  addressed  to  a  customer. 

Paul  made  his  way,  as  directed,  to  the  lower  end  of  the 
store. 

A  short,  wiry,  nervous  man  was  writing  at  a  desk. 

"  Is  Mr.  Smith  in  ?  "  asked  Paul. 

**  My  name ;  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  said  the  short  man, 
crisply. 

**  I  saw  an  advertisement  in  the  Tribune  for  a  boy." 

•*  And  you  have  applied  for  the  situation  ?  "  said  Mr.  Smith. 

"Yes,  sir." 

**  How  old  are  you  ?  "  with  a  rapid  glance  at  our  hero. 

**  Sixteen  —  nearly  seventeen." 

•*  I  suppose  that  means  that  you  will  be  seventeen  in  eleven 
months  and  a  half." 

"No  sir,"  said  Paul,  "  I  shall  be  seventeen  in  three  months." 

"  All  right.  Most  boys  call  themselves  a  year  older.  What 's 
your  name  ?  " 

"  Paul  Prescott." 

"  P.  P.     Any  relation  to  Fanny  Fern  ?  " 

"No,  sir,"  said  Paul,  rather  astonished. 

"  Did  n't  know  but  you  might  be.  P.  P.  and  F.  F.  Where 
do  you  live  ?  " 

Paul  mentioned  the  street  and  number. 

"  That's  well,  you  are  near  by,"  said  Mr.  Smith.  "  Now, 
are  you  afraid  of  work  ?  " 

"  No  sir,"  said  Paul,  smiling,  "  not  much." 


PAUL   PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  133 

"Well,  that's  important;  how  much  wages  do  you  expect?" 

**  I  suppose,"  said  Paul,  hesitating,  '*  I  couldn't  expect  very 
much  at  first." 

*'  Of  course  not;  green,  you  know.  What  do  you  say  to  a 
dollar  a  week  ?  " 

**  A  dollar  a  week  ! "  exclaimed  Paul,  in  dismay,  **  I  hoped 
to  get  enough  to  pay  for  my  board." 

'*  Nonsense.  There  are  plenty  of  boys  glad  enough  to  come 
for  a  dollar  a  week.  At  first,  you  know.  But  I  '11  stretch  a 
point  with  you,  and  oflfer  you  a  dollar  and  a  quarter.  What  do 
you  say  ?  " 

*•  How  soon  could  I  expect  to  have  my  wages  advanced?" 
inquired  our  hero,  with  considerable  anxiety. 

"  Well,"  said  Smith,  "  at  the  end  of  a  month  or  two." 

**  I'll  go  home  and  speak  to  my  uncle  about  it,"  said  Paul, 
feeling  undecided. 

**  Can't  keep  the  place  open  for  you.  Ah,  there 's  another 
boy  at  the  door." 

"I'll  accept,"  said  Paul,  jumping  to  a  decision.  He  had  ap- 
plied in  so  many  different  quarters  without  success,  that  he 
could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  throw  away  this  chance,  poor  as 
it  seemed. 

"  When  shall  I  come  ?  " 

**  Come  to-morrow." 

**  At  what  time,  sir?  " 

*•  At  seven  o'clock." 

This  seemed  rather  early.  However,  Paul  was  prepared  to 
expect  some  discomforts,  and  signified  that  he  would  come. 

As  he  turned  to  go  away,  another  boy  passed  him,  probably 
bent  on  the  same  errand  with  himself. 

Paul  hardly  knew  whether  to  feel  glad  or  sorry.  He  had  ex- 
pected at  least  three  dollars  a  week,  and  the  descent  to  a  dol- 
lar and  a  quarter  was  rather  disheartening.  Still,  he  was  en- 
couraged by  the  promise  of  a  rise  at  the  end  of  a  month  or 
two,  — so  on  the  whole  he  went  home  cheerful. 

12 


134  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

•*  Well,  Paul,  what  luck  to-day?"  asked  ]VIr.  Cameron,  who 
had  just  got  home  as  Paul  entered. 

"  I've  got  a  place.  Uncle  Hugh." 

**  You  have,  —  where  ?  " 

"  With  Smith  &  Thompson,  No.  —  Broadway." 

**  What  sort  of  a  store  ?    I  don't  remember  the  name." 

**  It  is  a  retail  dry-goods  store." 

•*  Did  you  like  the  looks  of  your  future  employer?  " 

**  I  don't  know,"  said  Paul,  hesitating,  ''He  looked  as  if  he 
might  be  a  pretty  sharp  man  in  business,  but  I  have  seen  others 
that  I  would  rather  work  for.  However,  beggars  must  n't  be 
choosers.     But  there  was  one  thing  I  was  disappointed  about." 

*♦  What  was  that,  Paul?" 

"About  the  wages." 

**  How  much  will  they  give  you  ?  " 

*•  Only  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  a  week,  at  first." 

**  That  is  small,  to  be  sure." 

**  The  most  I  think  of.  Uncle  Hugh,  is,  that  I  shall  still  be 
an  expense  to  you.  I  hoped  to  get  enough  to  be  able  to  pay 
my  board  from  the  first." 

**  My  dear  boy,"  said  the  sexton,  kindly,  **  don't  trouble 
yourself  on  that  score.  It  costs  little  more  for  three  than  for 
two,  and  the  little  I  expend  on  your  account  is  richly  made  up 
by  the  satisfaction  we  feel  in  your  society,  and  your  good 
conduct." 

**  You  say  that  to  encourage  me,  Uncle  Hugh,"  said  Paul. 
**  You  have  done  all  for  me.     I  have  done  nothing  for  you." 

**  No,  Paul,  I  spoke  the  truth.  Hester  and  I  have  both  been 
happier  since  you  came  to  us.  We  hope  you  will  long  remain 
with  us.  You  are  already  as  dear  to  us  as  the  son  that  we 
lost." 

*•  Thank  you,  Uncle  Hugh,"  said  Paul,  in  a  voice  tremulous 
with  feeling.     *'  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  deserve  your  kindness." 


XXI. 

SMITH  AND  Thompson's  young  man. 

At  seven  o'clock  the  neirt  morning  Paul  stood  before  Smith 
&  Thompson's  store. 

As  he  came  up  on  one  side,  another  boy  came  down  on  the 
other,  and  crossed  the  street. 

*'  Are  you  the  new  boy  ?  "  he  asked,  surveying  Paul  atten- 
tively. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Paul.  "  I  Ve  engaged  to  work  for 
Smith  &  Thompson." 

"All  right.     I  'm  glad  to  see  you,"  said  the  other. 

This  looked  kind,  and  Paul  thanked  him  for  his  welcome. 

**0,"  said  the  other,  bursting  into  a  laugh,  **you  needn't 
trouble  yourself  about  thanking  me.  I  'm  glad  you  Ve  come, 
because  now  I  shan't  have  to  open  the  store  and  sweep  out. 
Just  lend  a  hand  there  ;  I  '11  help  you  about  taking  down  the 
shutters  this  morning,  and  to-morrow  you  '11  have  to  get  along 
alone." 

The  two  boys  opened  the  store. 

**  What's  your  name?  "  asked  Paul's  new  acquaintance. 

**  Paul  Prescott.     What  is  yours  ?  " 

**  Nicholas  Benton.     You  may  call  me  3fr.  Benton." 

"  Mr.  Benton  ?  "  repeated  Paul  in  some  astonishment. 

**  Yes  ;  I  'm  a  young  man  now.  I  've  been  Smith  «&  Ihomp- 
gon's  boy  till  now.     Now  I  'm  promoted." 

Paul  looked  at  Mr,  Benton  with  some  amusement.    That 


136  PAUL  PKESCOTT*S   CHARGE. 

young  man  was  somewhat  shorter  than  himself,  and  sole  pro- 
prietor of  a  stock  of  pale  yellow  hair  which  required  an  abun- 
dant stock  of  bear's  grease  to  keep  it  in  order.  His  face  was 
freckled  and  expressionless.  His  eyebrows  and  eyelashes  were 
of  the  same  faded  color.  He  was  dressed,  however,  with  some 
pretensions  to  smartness.  He  wore  a  blue  necktie,  of  large 
dimensions,  fastened  by  an  enormous  breast-pin,  which,  in  its 
already  tarnished  splendor,  suggested  stiong  doubts  as  to  the 
apparent  gold  being  genuine. 

'*  There 's  the  broom,  Paul,"  said  Mr.  Benton,  assuming  a 
graceful  position  on  the  counter.  *•  You  '11  have  to  sweep  out ; 
only  look  sharp  about  raising  a  dust,  or  Smith  '11  be  into  your 
wool." 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  Mr.  Smith  ?  "  asked  Paul,  with  some 
curiosity. 

**  O,  he's  an  out  and  outer.  Sharp  as  a  steel  trap.  He  '11 
make  you  toe  the  mark." 

**  Do  you  like  him  ?  "  asked  Paul,  not  quite  sure  whether  he 
imderstood  his  employer's  character  from  the  description. 

**  I  don't  like  him  well  enough  to  advise  any  of  my  folks  to 
trade  with  him,"  said  Mr.  Benton. 

"Why  not?" 

*•  He'd  cheat  'em  out  of  their  eye  teeth  if  they  happened  to 
have  any,"  said  the  young  man  coolly,  beginning  to  pick  his 
teeth  with  a  knife. 

Paul  besran  to  doubt  whether  he  should  like  Mr.  Smith. 

♦•  I  say,"  said  Mr.  Benton  after  a  pause,  "  have  you  begun  to 
shave  yet  ?  " 

Paul  looked  up  to  see  if  his  companion  were  in  earnest. 

**  No,"  said  he ;  '*  I  have  n't  got  along  as  far  as  that.  Have 
you  ?  " 

**  I,"  repeated  the  young  man,  a  little  contemptuously,  **  of 
course  I  have.     I  've  shaved  for  a  year  and  a  half." 

**  Do  you  find  it  hard  shaving  ?  "  asked  Paul,   a  little  slily. 

**  Well,  my  beard  is  rather  stiff,"  said  the  late  6oy,  with  an 
important  air,  *'but  I've  got  used  to  it." 


PAUL  PRESCOTT's   CHARGE.  137 

♦•Ain't  you  rather  young  to  shave,  Nicholas?'' asked  Paul. 

**  Mr.  Benton,  if  you  please." 

*•  I  mean,  Mr.  Benton." 

**  Perhaps  I  was  when  I  begun.     But  now  I  am  nineteen." 

**  Nineteen  ?  " 

•'Yes,  that  is  to  say,  I'm  within  a  few  months  of  being  nine- 
teen.    What  do  you  think  of  my  moustache  ?  " 

•♦I  had  n't  noticed  it." 

••The  store's  rather  dark,"  muttered  Mr.  Benton,  who 
seemed  a  little  annoyed  by  this  answer.  *' If  you'll  come  a 
little  nearer  you  can  see  it." 

Drawing  near,  Paul,  after  some  trouble,  descried  a  few  scat- 
tering hairs. 

*•  Yes,"  said  he,  wanting  to  laugh,  *'  I  see  it." 

**  Coming  on  finely,  isn't  it.f'  "  asked  IVIr.  Nicholas  Benton, 
complacently. 

*'  Yes,"  said  Paul,  rather  doubtfully. 

**  I  don't  mind  letting  you  into  a  secret,"  said  Benton,  affably, 
•*  if  you  won't  mention  it.  I  've  been  using  some  of  the  six 
weeks'  stuff." 

•*  The  what?  " asked  Paul,  opening  his  eyes. 

•' Haven't  you  heard  of  it?"  inquired  Benton,  a  little  con- 
temptuously. "Where  have  you  been  living  all  your  life? 
Haven't  you  seen  it  advertised,  — warranted  to  produce  a  full 
set  of  whiskers  or  moustaches  upon  the  smoothest  face,  etc.  I 
got  some  a  week  ago,  only  a  dollar.  Five  weeks  from  now 
you  '11  see  something  that  '11  astonish  you." 

Paul  was  not  a  litle  amused  by  his  new  companion,  and 
would  have  laughed,  but  that  he  feared  to  offend  him. 

*•  You  'd  better  get  some,"  said  Mr.  Benton.  "  I  '11  let  you 
just  try  mine  once,  if  you  want  to." 

*•  Thank  you,"  said  Paul ;  "I don't  think  I  want  to  have  a 
moustache  just  yet." 

••Well,  perhaps  you're  right.  Being  a  Iwy,  perhaps  it 
would  n't  be  advisable." 

12* 


138  PAUL  PRESCOTT*S  CHARGE.  * 

**  When  does  Mr.  Smitli  come  in  ?  " 

**  Not  till  nine." 

"And  the  other  clerks  ?  " 

**  About  eight  o'clock.  I  shan't  come  till  eight,  to-morrov» 
morning. 

**  There's  one  thing  I  should  like  to  ask  you/'  said  Paul. 
"  Of  course  you  won't  answer  unless  you  like." 

**  Out  with  it." 

**  How  much  does  Mr.  Smith  pay  you?" 

**  Ahem ! "  said  Benton,  *'  what  does  he  pay  you?" 

*•  A  dollar  and  a  quarter  a  week." 

**  He  paid  me  a  dollar  and  a  half  to  begin  with." 

**  Did  he  ?    He  wanted  me  to  come  first  at  a  dollar." 

**  Just  like  him.  Didn't  I  tell  you  he  was  an  out  and  outer? 
He  '11  be  sure  to  take  you  in  if  you  will  let  him." 

**But,"  said  Paul,  anxiously,  '*he  said  he'd  raise  it  in  a 
month  or  two." 

**He  won't  offer  to ;  you'll  have  to  tease  him.  And  then 
how  much '11  he  raise  it?  Not  more  than  a  quarter.  How 
much  do  you  think  I  get  now  ?  " 

**  How  long  have  you  been  here  ?  " 

•*  A  year  and  a  half." 

**  Five  dollars  a  week,"  guessed  Paul. 

**  Five !  he  only  gives  me  two  and  a  half.  That  is,  he  has  n't 
been  paying  me  but  that.  Now,  of  course,  he'll  raise,  as  I  've 
been  promoted." 

**  How  much  do  you  expect  to  get  now  ?  " 

*'  May  be  four  dollars,  and  I  'm  worth  ten  any  day.  He 's  a 
mean  old  skinflint,  Smith  is." 

This  glimpse  at  his  own  prospects  did  not  tend  to  make  Paul 
feel  very  comfortable.  He  could  not  repress  a  sigh  of  disap- 
pointment when  he  thought  of  this  mortifying  termination  of 
all  his  brilliant  prospects.  He  had  long  nourished  the  hope  of 
being  able  to  repay  the  good  sexton  for  his  outlay  in  his  be- 
half, besides  discharging  the  debt  which  his  father  had  left  be- 


PAUL  PKESCOTT's   CHARGE.  139 

hind  him.  Now  there  seemed  to  be  little  prospect  of  either. 
He  had  half  a  mind  to  resign  his  place  immediately  upon  the 
entrance  of  Mr.  Smith,  but  two  considerations  dissuaded  him  f 
one,  that  the  sum  which  he  was  to  receive,  though  small,  would 
at  least  buy  his  clothes,  and  besides,  he  was  not  at  all  certain 
of  obtaining  another  situation. 

With  a  sigh,  therefore,  he  went  about  his  duties. 

He  had  scarcely  got  the  store  ready  when  some  of  the  clerks 
entered,  and  the  business  of  the  day  conmienced.  At  nine 
Mr.  Smith  appeared. 

"  So  you  're  here,  Peter,"  remarked  he,  as  he  caught  sight 
of  our  hero. 

*'  Paul,"  corrected  the  owner  of  that  name. 

*'  Well,  well,  Peter  or  Paul,  don't  make  much  difference. 
Both  were  apostles,  if  I  remember  right.  All  ready  for 
work,  eh.f*" 

*♦  Yes,  sir,"  said  Paul,  neither  very  briskly  nor  cheerfully. 

*♦  Well,"  said  Mr.  Smith,  after  a  pause,  "  I  guess  I'll  put 
you  into  the  calico  department.  Williams,  you  may  take  him 
under  your  wing.  And  now  Peter,  —  all  the  Siime,  Paul,  — 
I  've  got  a  word  or  two  to  say  to  you,  as  I  always  do  to  every 
boy  who  comes  into  my  store.  Don't  forget  what  you  're  here 
for?  It 's  to  sell  goods.  Take  care  to  sell  something  to  every 
man,  woman,  and  child,  that  comes  in  your  way.  That 's  the 
way  to  do  business.  Follow  it  up,  and  you  '11  be  a  rich  man 
some  day." 

"  But  suppose  they  don't  want  anything?  "  said  Paul. 

*' Make 'era  want  something,"  returned  Smith,  '*  Don't  let 
Vm  off  without  buying.  That's  my  motto.  However,  you'll 
learn." 

Smith  bustled  off,  and  began  In  his  nervous  way  to  exercise 
a  general  supervision  over  all  that  was  going  on  in  the  store. 
He  seemed  to  be  all  eyes.  While  apparently  entirely  occupied 
in  waiting  upon  a  customer,  he  took  notice  of  all  the  customers 
in  the  store,  and  could  tell  what  they  bought,  and  how  much 
they  paid. 


140  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

Paul  listened  attentively  to  the  clerk  under  whom  he  waa 
placed  for  instruction. 

"What's  the  price  of  this  calico?"  inquired  a  common- 
looking  woman. 

**  A  shilling  a  yard,  ma'am,"  (this  was  not  in  war  times.) 

**  It  looks  rather  coarse." 

*'  Coarse,  ma'am!  What  can  you  be  thinking  of.**  It  is  a 
superfine  piece  of  goods.  We  sell  more  of  it  than  of  any  other 
figure.  The  mayor's  wife  was  in  here  yesterday,  and  bought 
two  dress  patterns  off  of  it." 

'*  Did  she.*^  "  asked  the  woman,  who  appeared  favorably  im- 
pressed by  this  circumstance. 

*•  Yes,  and  she  promised  to  send  her  friends  here  after  some 
of  it.     You  'd  better  take  it  while  you  can  get  it." 

"Will  it  wash?" 

**  To  be  sure  it  will." 

**  Then  I  guess  you  may  cut  me  off  ten  yards." 

This  was  quickly  done,  and  the  woman  departed  with  her 
purchase. 

Five  minutes  later,  another  woman  entered  with  a  bundle  of 
the  same  figured  calico. 

Seeing  her  coming,  Williams  hastily  slipped  the  remnant  of 
the  piece  out  of  sight. 

**  I  got  this  calico  here,"  said  the  new  comer,  '*  one  day  last 
week.  You  warranted  it  to  wash,  but  I  find  it  won't.  Here's 
apiece  I've  tried." 

She  showed  a  pattern,  which  had  a  faded  look. 

"You've  come  to  the  wrong  store,"  said  Williams,  coolly, 
**  You  must  have  got  the  calico  somewhere  else." 

"No,  I'm  sure  I  got  it  here.  I  remember  particularly 
buying  it  of  you." 

* '  You  've  got  a  better  memory  than  I  have,  then.  We  have 
n't  got  a  piece  of  calico  like  that  in  the  store." 

Paul  listened  to  this  assertion  with  unutterable  surprise. 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  141 

"  I  am  quite  certain  I  bought  it  here,"  said  the  woman, 
perplexed. 

••  Must  have  been  the  next  store,  — Blake  &  Hastings.  Bet- 
ter go  over  there."  . 

The  woman  went  out. 

**  That's  the  way  to  do  business,"  said  Williams,  winking  at 
Paul. 

Paul  said  nothing,  but  he  felt  mere  than  ever  doubtful  about 
retuuing  his  place. 


xxn. 

MR.    BSNTON'S    adventure. 

One  evening,  about  a  fortnight  after  his  entrance  into  Smith 
&  Thompson's  employment,  Paul  was  putting  up  the  shutters, 
the  business  of  the  day  being  over.  It  devolved  upon  him  to  open 
and  close  the  store,  and  usually  he  was  the  last  one  to  go  home. 

This  evening,  however,  Mr.  Nicholas  Benton  graciously  re- 
mained behind  and  assisted  Paul  in  closing  the  store.  This 
was  unusual,  and  surprised  Paul  a  little.  It  was  soon  explained, 
however. 

**  Good-night,  Nicholas,  —  I  mean,  Mr.  Benton,"  said  Paul. 

**  Not  quite  yet.  I  want  you  to  walk  a  little  way  with  me 
this  evening." 

Paul  hesitated. 

**  Come,  no  backing  out.  I  want  to  confide  to  you  a  very 
important  secret." 

He  looked  so  mysterious  that  Paul's  curiosity  was  aroused, 
and  reflecting  that  it  was  yet  early,  he  took  his  companion's 
proffered  arm,  and  sauntered  along  by  his  side. 

*' What's  the  secret?"  he  asked  at  length,  perceiving  that 
Nicholas  was  silent. 

*'  Wait  till  we  get  to  a  more  retired  place." 

He  turned  out  of  Broadway  into  a  side  street,  where  the 
passers  were  less  numerous. 

*'  I  don't  think  you  could  guess,"  said  the  young  man,  turning 
towards  our  hero. 


PAUL  prescott's  cpiarge.  143 

"I  don't  think  I  could." 

**  And  yet,"  continued  Benton,  meditatively,  **  it  is  possible 
that  vou  may  have  noticed  something  in  my  appearance  just  a 
little  unusual  within  the  last  week.     Have  n't  you,  now  ?  " 

Paul  could  not  say  that  he  had. 

Mr.  Benton  looked  a  little  disappointed. 

**  Nobody  can  tell  what  has  been  the  state  of  my  feelings,"  he 
resumed  after  a  pause. 

**  You  ain^t  sick?"  questioned  Paul,  hastily. 

**  Nothing  of  the  sort,  only  my  appetite  has  been  a  good  deal 
affected.  I  don't  think  I  have  eaten  as  much  in  a  week  as  you 
would  in  a  day,"  he  added,  complacently. 

"  If  I  felt  that  way  I  should  think  I  was  going  to  be  sick," 
said  Paul. 

**  I  '11  let  you  into  into  the  secret,"  said  Mr.  Benton,  lower- 
ing his  voice,  and  looking  carefully  about  him,  to  make  sure 
that  no  one  was  within  hearing  distance  —  *'  /'/?*  in  love.'''' 

This  seemed  so  utterly  ludicrous  to  Paul,  that  he  came  very 
near  losing  Mr.  Benton's  friendship  forever  by  bursting  into  a 
hearty  laugh. 

**I  didn't  think  of  that,"  he  said. 

*'  It 's  taken  away  my  appetite,  and  I  have  n't  been  able  to 
sleep  nights,"  continued  Mr.  Benton,  in  a  cheerful  tone.  **  I 
feel  just  as  Howard  Courtenay  did  in  the  great  story  that 's 
coming  out  in  the  Weekly  Budget.  You  've  read  it,  have  n't 
you  ?  " 

*•  I  don't  think  I  have,"  said  Paul. 

*'  Then  you  ought  to.  It's  tip  top.  It's  ratner  curious  too 
that  the  lady  looks  just  as  Miranda  does,  in  the  same  story." 

"How  is  that?" 

**  Wait  a  minute,  and  I'll  read  the  description." 

Mr.  Benton  pulled  a  paper  from  his  pocket,  —  the  last  copy 
of  the  Weekly  Budget,  —  and  by  the  light  of  a  street  lamp  read 
the  following  extract  to  his  amused  auditor. 

**Mu'auda  was  just  eighteen.    Her  form  was  queenly  and 


144  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

majestic.  Tall  and  stately,  she  moved  among  her  handmaidens 
with  a  dignity  which  revealed  her  superior  rank.  Her  eyes 
were  dark  as  night.  Her  luxuriant  tresses,  —  there,  the  rest  is 
torn  off,"  said  Mr.  Benton,  in  a  tone  of  vexation. 

'♦  She  is  tall,  then  ?  "  said  Paul. 

*' Yes,  just  like  Miranda." 

•*  Then,"  said  our  hero,  in  some  hesitation,  **  I  should  think 
fihe  would  not  be  very  well  suited  to  you." 

*♦  Why  not?  "  asked  Mr.  Benton,  quickly. 

*'  Because,"  said  Paul,  *'  you  're  rather  short,  you  know.'* 

**  I  'm  about  the  medium  height,"  said  Mr.  Benton,  raising 
himself  upon  his  toes  as  he  spoke. 

**  Not  quite,"  said  Paul,  trying  not  to  laugh. 

*'  I  'm  as  tall  as  Mr.  Smith,"  resumed  Mr.  Benton,  in  a  tone 
which  warned  Paul  that  this  was  a  forbidden  subject.  *'  But 
you  don^t  ask  me  who  she  is." 

•*  I  did  n't  know  as  you  would  be  willing  to  tell." 

*'  I  shan't  tell  any  one  but  you.  It's  Miss  Hawkins,  — firm 
of  Hawkins  &  Brewer.  That  is,  her  father  belongs  to  the  firm, 
not  she.  And  Paul,"  here  he  clutched  our  hero's  arm  convul- 
sively, *'I've  made  a  declaration  of  my  love,  and  —  and" — 

"Well?" 

•'  She  has  answered  my  letter." 

*'  Has  she?  "  asked  Paul  with  some  curiosity,  **  What  did 
she  say  ?  " 

"  She  has  written  me  to  be  under  her  window  this  evening." 

* '  Why  under  her  window  ?  why  did  n't  she  write  you  to  call  ?  " 

*'  Probably  she  will,  but  it 's  more  romantic  to  say, '  be  under 
my  window.' " 

•'  Well,  perhaps  it  is  ;  only  you  know  I  don  't  know  much 
about  such  things." 

"Of  course  not,  Paul,"  said  Mr.  Benton;  "you're  only  a 
boy,  you  know." 

"  Are  you  going  to  be  under  her  window,  Nich,  — I  mean 
Mr.  Benton  ?  " 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  145 

**  Of  course.  Do  you  think  I  would  miss  the  appointment? 
No  earthly  power  could  prevent  my  doing  it." 

**  Then  I  had  better  leave  you,"  said  Paul,  making  a  move- 
ment to  go. 

**  No,  I  want  you  to  accompany  me  as  far  as  the  door.  I 
feel  —  a  little  agitated.  I  suppose  everybody  does  when  they 
are  in  love,"  added  Mr.  Benton,  complacently. 

*'  Well,"  said  Paul,  "  I  will  see  you  to  the  door,  but  I  can't 
stay,  for  they  will  wonder  at  home  what  has  become  of  me.'* 

♦*  All  right." 

*•  Are  we  anywhere  near  the  house  ?  " 

**  Yes,  it 's  only  in  the  next  street,"  said  Mr.  Benton,  **  O, 
Paul,  how  my  heart  beats  !     You  can't  imagine  how  I  feel ! " 

Mr.  Benton  gasped  for  breath,  and  looked  as  if  he  had 
swallowed  a  fish  bone,  which  he  had  some  difliculty  in  getting 
down. 

''You'll  know  how  to  understand  my  feelings  sometime, 
Paul,"  said  Mr.  Benton  ;  "  when  your  time  comes,  I  will  remem- 
ber your  service  of  to-night,  and  I  will  stand  by  you." 

Paul  inwardly  hoped  that  he  should  never  fall  in  love,  if  it 
was  likely  to  affect  him  in  the  same  way  as  his  companion,  but 
he  thought  it  best  not  to  say  so. 

By  this  time  they  had  come  in  sight  of  a  three-story  brick 
house,  with  Benjamin  Hawkins  on  the  door-plate. 

*'  That's  the  house,"  said  Mr.  Benton,  in  an  agitated 
whisper. 

"Is  it?" 

"  Yes,  and  that  window  on  the  left-hand  side  is  the  window 
of  her  chamber." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

<*  She  told  me  in  the  letter." 

**  And  where  are  you  to  stand?" 

**  Just  underneath,  as  the  clock  strikes  nine.  It  must  be 
about  the  time.'* 

At  that  moment  the  city  clock  struck  nine. 

13 


146  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

Mr.  Benton  left  Paul,  and  crossing  the  street,  took  up  his 
position  beneath  the  window  of  his  channer,  beginning  to  shig, 
in  a  thin,  piping  voice,  as  preconcerted  between  them — 

«*  Ever  of  thee, 
1  'm  fo-o-ondly  dreaming." 

The  song  was  destined  never  to  be  finished. 

From  his  post  in  a  doorway  opposite,  Paul  saw  the  window 
softly  open.  He  could  distinguish  a  tall  female  figure,  doubt- 
less Miss  Hawkins  herself.  She  held  in  her  hand  a  pitcher  of 
water,  which  she  emptied  with  well-directed  aim  full  upon  the 
small  person  of  her  luckless  admirer. 

The  falling  column  struck  upon  his  beaver,  thence  spreading 
on  all  sides.  His  carefully  starched  collar  became  instantly  as 
limp  as  a  rag,  while  his  coat  suffered  severely  from  the  shower. 

His  tuneful  accents  died  away  in  dismay. 

**  Ow  !  "  he  exclaimed,  jumping  at  least  a  yard,  and  invol- 
untarily shaking  himself  like  a  dog,  "  who  did  that?  " 

There  was  no  answer  save  a  low,  musical  laugh  from  the 
window  above,  which  was  involuntarily  echoed  by  Paul. 

*'  What  do  you  mean  by  laughing  at  me?  "  demanded  Mr. 
Benton,  smarting  with  mortification,  as  he  strode  across  the 
street,  trying  to  dry  his  hat  with  the  help  of  his  handkerchief, 
**  Is  this  what  you  call  friendship  ?  " 

"  Excuse  me,"  gasped  Paul,  "  but  I  really  could  n't  help  it." 

**  I  don't  see  anything  to  laugh  at,"  continued  Mr.  Benton, 
m  a  resentful  tone  ;  "  because  I  have  been  subjected  to  unman- 
ly persecution,  you  must  laugh  at  me,  instead  of  extending  to 
me  the  sympathy  of  a  friend." 

* '  I  suppose  you  won't  think  of  her  any  more,"  said  Paul, 
recovering  himself. 

"  Think  of  her !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Benton,  **  would  you  have 
me  tear  her  from  my  heart,  because  her  mercenary  parent 
chooses  to  frown  upon  our  love,  and  follow  me  with  base 
persecution." 

•* Her  parent!" 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  147 

"  Yes,  it  was  he  who  threw  the  water  upon  me.  But  it  sliall 
not  avail,"  the  young  man  continued,  folding  his  arms,  and 
speaking  in  a  tone  of  resolution,  *'  bolts  and  bars  shall  not  keep 
two  loving  hearts  asunder." 

*'  But  it  was  n't  her  father,"  urged  Paul,  perceiving  that  Mr, 
Benton  was  under  a  mistake. 

*♦  Who  was  it,  then?" 

**  It  was  the  young  lady  herself." 

**  Who  threw  the  water  upon  me  ?    It  is  a  base  slander." 

«*  But  I  saw  her." 

«*  Saw  who  ?  " 

"  A  tall  young  lady  with  black  hair.'* 

"  And  was  it  she  who  threw  the  water  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Benton, 
aghast  at  this  unexpected  revelation. 

♦♦Yes." 

**  Then  she  did  it  at  the  command  of  her  proud  parent." 

Paul  did  not  dispute  this,  since  it  seemed  to  comfort  Mr. 
Benton.  It  is  doubtful,  however,  whether  the  young  man  be- 
lieved it  himself,  since  he  straightway  fell  into  a  fit  of  gloomy 
abstraction,  and  made  no  response  when  Paul  bade  him  "good- 
night " 


xxm. 

PAUL  LOSES   HIS   SITUATION    AND  GAINS  A   FRIEND, 

Paul  had  a  presentiment  that  he  should  not  long  remain  in 
the  employ  of  Smith  &  Thompson ;  it  was  not  many  weeks  be- 
fore this  presentiment  was  verified. 

After  having  received  such  instruction  as  was  necessary,  the 
calico  department  was  left  in  Paul's  charge.  One  day  a  cus- 
tomer in  turning  over  the  patterns  shown  her  took  up  a  piece 
which  Paul  knew  from  complaints  made  by  purchasers  would 
not  wash. 

*'  This  is  pretty,"  said  she,  "  it  is  just  what  I  have  been 
looking  for.     You  may  cut  me  off  twelve  yards." 

**  Yes,  ma'am." 

"Wait  a  minute,  though,"  interposed  the  lady,  "will  it 
wash  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  it  will,"  said  Paul,  frankly,  "  there  have  been 
some  complaints  made  about  that." 

•'  Then  I  shall  not  want  it.  Let  me  see  what  else  you  have 
got." 

The  customer  finally  departed,  having  found  nothing  to  suit 
her. 

No  sooner  had  she  left  the  store  than  'Mr.  Smith  called  PauL 

"  Well,  did  you  sell  that  lady  anything  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

*•  And  why  not  ?  "  demanded  Smith,  harshly. 

**  Because  she  did  not  like  any  of  the  pieces." 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  149 

**  Would  n't  she  have  ordered  a  dress  pattern  if  you  had  not 
told  her  the  calico  would  not  wash  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  sir,  I  suppose  so,"  said  Paul,  preparing  for  a  storm, 

*'  Then  why  did  you  tell  her?"  demanded  his  employer, 
angrily. 

"Because  she  asked  me." 

**  Couldn't  you  have  told  her  that  it  would  wash ?" 

*'  That  would  not  have  been  the  truth,"  said  Paul,  sturdily. 

"You're  a  mighty  conscientious  young  man,"  sneered 
Smith,  **  You're  altogether  too  pious  to  succeed  in  business, 
I  discharge  you  from  my  employment." 

*'  Very  well,  sir,"  said  Paul,  his  heart  sinking,  but  keeping 
up  a  brave  exterior,  **  then  I  have  only  to  bid  you  good- 
morning." 

**  Good-morning,  sir,"  said  his  employer  with  mock  deference, 
*'  I  advise  you  to  study  for  the  ministry,  and  no  longer  waste 
your  talents  in  selling  calico." 

Paul  made  no  reply,  but  putting  on  his  cap  walked  out  of 
the  store.  It  was  the  middle  of  the  week,  and  Mr.  Smith  was, 
of  course,  owing  him  a  small  sum  for  his  services  ;  but  Paul 
was  too  proud  to  ask  for  his  money,  which  that  gentleman  did 
not  see  fit  to  volunteer. 

**  I  am  sure  I  have  done  right,"  thought  Paul.  **  I  had  no 
right  to  misrepresent  the  goods  to  that  lady.  I  wonder  what 
Uncle  Hugh  will  say." 

*'  You  did  perfectly  right,"  said  the  sexton,  after  Paul  had 
related  the  circumstances  of  his  dismissal.  *'  I  wouldn't  have 
had  you  act  differently  for  twenty  situations.  I  have  no  doubt 
you  will  get  a  better  position  elsewhere." 

*'  I  hope  so,"  said  Paul.  *'  Now  that  I  have  lost  the  situa- 
tion, Uncle  Hugh,  I  don't  mind  saying  that  I  never  liked  it." 

Now  commenced  a  search  for  another  place.  Day  after  day 
Paul  went  out,  and  day  after  day  he  returned  with  the  same 
want  of  success. 

"Never   mind,    Paul,"    said    the    sexton    encouragingly, 

13* 


150  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

**  Wlien  you  do  succeed,  perhaps  you'll  get  sometlilng  worth 
waiting  for." 

One  morning  Paul  went  out  feeling  that  something  was  go- 
ing to  happen,  — he  didn't  exactly  know  what,  —  but  he  felt 
somehow  that  there  was  to  be  a  change  in  his  luck.  He  went 
out,  therefore,  with  more  hopefulness  than  usual ;  yet,  when 
four  o'clock  came,  and  nothing  had  occurred  except  failure  and 
disappointment,  which  unhappily  were  not  at  all  out  of  the  or- 
dinary course,  Paul  began  to  think  that  he  was  very  foolish  to 
have  expected  anything. 

He  was  walking  listlessly  along  a  narrow  street,  when,  on  a 
sudden,  he  heard  an  exclamation  of  terror,  of  which,  on  turn- 
ing round,  he  easily  discovered  the  cause. 

Two  spirited  horses,  attached  to  an  elegant  carriage,  had 
been  terrified  in  some  way,  and  were  now  running  at  the 
top  of  their  speed. 

There  was  no  coachman  on  the  box;  he  had  dismounted  in 
order  to  ring  at  some  door,  when  the  horses  started.  He  waa 
now  doing  his  best  to  overtake  the  horses,  but  in  a  race  be- 
tween man  and  horse,  it  is  easy  to  predict  which  will  have 
the  advantage. 

There  seemed  to  be  but  one  person  in  the  carriage.  It  was 
a  lady, — whose  face,  pale  with  terror,  could  be  seen  from  the 
carriage  window.  Her  loud  cries  of  alarm  no  doubt  terrified 
the  horses  still  more,  and,  by  accelerating  their  speed,  tended 
to  make  matters  worse. 

Paul  was  roused  from  a  train  of  despondent  reflections  by 
seeing  the  horses  coming  up  the  street.  He  instantly  compre- 
hended the  whole  danger  of  the  lady's  situation. 

Most  boys  would  have  thought  of  nothing  but  getting  out  of 
the  way,  and  leaving  the  carriage  and  its  inmate  to  their  fate. 
What,  indeed,  could  a  boy  do  against  a  pair  of  powerful  horses, 
almost  beside  themselves  with  fright? 

But  our  hero,  as  we  have  already  had  occasion  to  see,  was 
brave  and  self-possessed,  and  felt  an  instant  desire  to  rescue 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S  CHARGE.        151 

the  lady,  whosti  glance  of  helpless  terror,  as  she  leaned  her 
head  from  the  window,  he  could  see.  Naturally  quickwitted, 
it  flashed  upon  him  that  the  only  way  to  relieve  a  horse  from 
one  terror,  was  to  bring  another  to  bear  upon  him. 

With  scarcely  a  moment's  preaneditation,  he  rushed  out  into 
the  middle  of  the  street,  full  in  the  path  of  the  furious  horses, 
and  with  his  cheeks  pale,  for  he  knew  his  danger,  but  with  de- 
termined air,  he  waved  his  arms  aloft,  and  cried  *'  Whoa !  "  at 
the  top  of  his  voice. 

The  horses  saw  the  sudden  movement.  They  saw  the  boy 
standing  directly  in  front  of  them.  They  heard  the  word  of 
command  to  which  they  had  been  used,  and  by  a  sudden  impulse, 
relieved  from  the  blind  terror  which  had  urged  them  on,  they 
stopped  suddenly,  and  stood  still  in  the  middle  of  the  street, 
still  showing  in  their  quivering  limbs  the  agitation  through 
which  they  had  passed. 

Just  then  the  coachman,  panting  with  his  hurried  running, 
came  up  and  seized  them  by  the  head. 

♦'Youngster,"  said  he,  *«you're  a  brave  fellow.  You've 
done  us  a  good  service  to-day.  You  're  a  pretty  cool  hand, 
fou  are.  I  don't  know  what  these  foolish  horses  would  have 
done  with  the  carriage  if  it  had  not  been  for  you." 

"Let  me  get  out,"  exclaimed  the  lady,  not  yet  recovered 
from  her  fright. 

"  I  will  open  the  door,"  said  Paul,  observing  that  the  coach- 
man was  fully  occupied  in  soothing  the  horses. 

lie  sprang  forward,  and  opening  the  door  of  the  carriage 
assisted  the  lady  to  descend. 
She  breathed  quickly. 

**  I  have  been  very  much  frightened,"  she  said;  *'and  I 
believe  I  have  been  in  very  great  danger.  Are  you  the  brave 
boy  who  stopped  the  horses  ?  " 

Paul  modestly  answered  in  the  affirmative. 
♦'And  how  did  you  do  it?     I  was  so  terrified  that  I  waa 
hardly  conscious  of  what  was  passing,  till  the  horses  stopped." 


152  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

Paul  modestly  related  his  agency  in  the  matter. 

The  lady  gazed  at  bis  flushed  face  admiringly. 

*'How  could  you  have  so  much  courage?"  she  asked. 
**  You  might  have  been  trampled  to  death  under  the  hoofs  of 
the  horses." 

'*  I  didn't  think  of  that.  I  only  thought  of  stopping  the 
horses." 

*' You  are  a  brave  boy.  I  shudder  when  I  think  of  your 
danger  and  mine.  I  shall  not  dare  to  get  into  the  carriage 
again  this  afternoon." 

**  Allow  me  to  accompany  you  home  ?  "  said  Paul,  politely. 

* '  Thank  you ;  I  will  trouble  you  to  go  with  me  as  far  as 
Broadway,  and  then  I  can  get  into  an  omnibus." 

She  turned  and  addressed  some  words  to  the  coachman,  di- 
recting him  to  drive  home  as  soon  as  the  horses  were  quieted, 
adding  that  she  would  trust  herself  to  the  escort  of  the  young 
hero,  who  had  rescued  her  from  the  late  peril. 

••  You  Ve  a  lucky  boy,"  thought  John,  the  coachman.  "My 
mistress  is  one  that  never  does  anything  by  halves.  It  won't 
be  for  nothing  that  you  have  rescued  her  this  afternoon." 

As  they  walked  along,  the  lady,  by  delicate  questioning, 
succeeded  in  drawing  from  our  hero  his  hopes  and  wishes  for 
the  future.  Paul,  who  was  of  a  frank  and  open  nature,  found 
it  very  natural  to  tell  her  all  he  felt  and  wished. 

•*He  seems  a  remarkably  fine  boy,"  thought  the  lady  to  her- 
self.    **  I  should  like  to  do  something  for  him." 

They  emerged  into  Broadway. 

*'I  will  detain  you  a  Httle  longer,"  said  the  lady ;  **  and  per- 
haps trouble  you  with  a  parcel." 

♦'  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  take  it,"  said  Paul,  poKtely. 

Appleton's  bookstore  was  close  at  hand.  Into  this  the  lady 
went,  followed  by  her  young  companion. 

A  clerk  advanced,  and  Inquired  her  wishes. 

*'  Will  you  show  me  some  writing-desks  ?  " 

**  I  am  going  to  purchase  a  writing-desk  for  a  young  friend 


PAUL  PRESCOTT's   CHARGE.  153 

of  mine,"  she  explained  to  Paul ;  *'  as  he  is  a  boy,  like  your- 
self, perhaps  you  can  guide  me  in  the  selection." 

*'  Certainly,"  said  Paul,  unsuspiciously. 

Several  desks  were  shown.  Paul  expressed  himself  admiiv 
ingly  of  one  made  of  rosewood  inlaid  with  pearl. 

*'  I  think  I  will  take  it,"  said  the  lady. 

The  price  was  paid,  and  the  desk  was  wrapped  up. 

**  Now,"  said  Mrs.  Danforth,  for  this  proved  to  be  her 
name,  **  I  will  trouble  you,  Paul,  to  take  the  desk  for  me,  and 
accompan)  me  in  the  omnibus,  that  is,  if  you  have  no  other  oc- 
cupation for  your  time." 

*'  I  am  quite  at  leisure," said  Paul.  **  I  shall  be  most  happy 
to  do  so." 

Paul  left  the  lady  at  the  door  of  her  residence  In  Fifth  Ave- 
nue, and  promised  to  call  on  his  new  friend  the  next  day. 

He  went  home  feeling  that,  though  he  had  met  with  no  suc- 
cess m  obtaining  a  place,  he  had  been  very  fortunate  in  render- 
ing so  Important  a  service  to  a  lady  whose  friendship  might  be 
of  essential  service  to  him. 


XXIV. 

PAUL  CALLS  ON  IMRS.  DANFORTH. 

•'  Mbs.  Edward  Dantorth,"  repeated  the  sexton,  on  LeaP" 
ing  the  fetory  of  PauPs  exploit.  "Why,  she  attenda  our 
church." 

**  Do  you  know  Mr.  Danforth?  "  asked  Paul,  with  interest. 

"  Only  by  sight.    I  know  him  by  reputation,  however." 

**  I  suppose  he  Is  very  rich." 

*'  Yes,  I  should  judge  so.  At  any  rate,  he  is  doing  an  ex- 
tensive business." 

*'  What  is  his  business  ?  " 

•*  He  Is  a  merchant." 

**  A  merchant,"  thought  Paul ;  **  that  is  just  what  I  should 
like  to  be,  but  I  don't  see  much  prospect  of  it." 

**  How  do  you  like  Mrs.  Danforth  ?  "  inquired  the  sexton. 

**Very  much,"  said  Paul,  warmly.  **She  was  very  kind, 
and  made  me  feel  quite  at  home  in  her  company." 

*'  I  hope  she  may  be  disposed  to  assist  you.  She  can  easily 
do  so,  In  her  position." 

The  next  day  Paul  did  not  as  usual  go  out  in  search  of  a  situa- 
tion. His  mind  was  occupied  with  thoughts  of  his  coming  in- 
terview with  Mrs.  Danforth,  and  he  thought  he  would  dei'er 
his  business  plans  till  the  succeeding  day. 

At  an  early  hour  in  the  evening,  he  paused  before  an  impos- 
ing residence  on  Fifth  Avenue,  which  he  had  seen  but  not  en- 
tered the  day  previous. 

He  mounted  the  steps  and  pulled  the  bell. 


PAUL  PKESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  155 

A  smart-looking  man-servant  answered  his  ring. 

**  Is  Mrs.  Danforth  at  home?  "  asked  Paul. 

**  Yes,  I  believe  so." 

**I  have  called  to  see  her." 

**Does  she  expect  you?"  asked  the  servant,  looking  sur- 
prised. 

**  Yes ;  I  come  at  her  appointment,"  said  Paul, 

**  Then  I  suppose  it's  all  right,"  said  the  man.  **  Will  you 
come  in  ?  "  he  asked,  a  little  doubtfully. 

Paul  followed  him  into  the  house,  and  was  shown  into  the 
drawing-room,  the  magnificence  of  which  somewhat  dazzled 
his  eyes,  accustomed  only  to  the  plain  sitting-room  of  Mr.  Cam- 
eron. 

The  servant  reappeared  after  a  brief  absence,  and  with 
rather  more  politeness  than  he  had  before  shown,  invited  Paul 
to  follow  him  to  a  private  sitting-room  up-stairs,  where  he 
would  see  Mrs.  Danforth. 

Looking  at  Paul's  plain,  though  neat  clothes,  the  servant 
was  a  little  puzzled  to  understand  what  had  obtained  for  Paul 
the  honor  of  being  on  visiting  terms  with  Mrs.  Danforth. 

*'  Good  evening,  Paul,"  said  Mrs.  Danforth,  rising  from  her 
seat  and  welcoming  our  hero  with  extended  hand.  *'  So  you 
did  not  forget  your  appointment." 

*'  There  was  no  fear  of  that,"  said  Paul,  with  his  usual  frank- 
ness.    **  I  have  been  looking  forward  to  coming  all  day." 

*'  Have  you,  indeed?  "  said  the  lady  with  a  pleasant  smile. 

**  Then  I  must  endeavor  to  make  your  visit  agreeable  to  you. 
Do  you  recognize  this  desk  ?  " 

Upon  a  table  close  by,  was  the  desk  which  had  been  pur- 
chased the  day  previous,  at  Appleton's. 

*'  Yes,"  said  Paul,  "it  is  the  one  you  bought  yesterday.  I 
think  it  is  very  handsome." 

*'I  am  glad  you  think  so.  I  think  I  told  you  that  I  intended 
it  for  a  present.  I  have  had  the  new  owner's  name  engraved 
upon  it." 

Paul  read  the  name  upon  the  plate  provided  for  the  purpose. 


156  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

His  face  flushed  with  surprise  and  pleasure.  That  name  was 
his  own. 

**  Do  you  really  mean  it  for  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

*'If  you  will  accept  it,"  said  Mrs.  Danforth,  smiling. 

*'  I  shall  value  it  very  much,"  said  Paul,  gratefully.  "And 
I  feel  very  much  indebted  to  your  kindness." 

•'  We  won't  talk  of  indebtedness,  for  you  remember  mine  is 
much  the  greater.  If  you  will  open  the  desk  you  will  find  that 
it  is  furnished  with  what  will,  I  hope,  prove  of  use  to  you." 

The  desk  being  opened,  proved  to  contain  a  liberal  supply  of 
stationery,  sealing  wax,  postage  stamps,  and  pens. 

Paul  was  delighted  with  his  new  present,  and  Mrs.  Danforth 
seemed  to  enjoy  the  evident  gratification  with  which  it  inspired 
him. 

"Now,"  said  she,  "tell  me  a  little  about  yourself.  Haye 
you  always  lived  in  New  York  ?  " 

"  Only  about  three  years,"  said  Paul. 

"  And  where  did  }  ou  live  before  ?  " 

"  At  Wrenville,  in  Connecticut." 

"  I  have  heard  of  the  place.  A  small  country  town,  is  it 
not?" 

Paul  answered  in  the  affinnative. 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  leave  Wrenville,  and  come  to 
New  York?" 

Paul  blushed,  and  hesitated  a  moment. 

"  I  ran  away,"  he  said  at  length,  determined  to  keep  noth- 
ing back. 

"Ran  away  !    Not  from  home,  I  hope." 

"1  had  no  home,"  said  Paul,  soberly.  "I  should  never 
have  left  there,  if  my  father  had  not  died.  Then  I  was  thrown 
upon  the  world.  I  was  sent  to  the  Poorhouse.  I  did  not 
want  to  go,  for  I  thought  I  could  support  myself." 

*  •  That  is  a  very  honorable  feeling.  I  suppose  you  did  not 
faie  very  well  at  the  Poorhouse." 

In  reply,  Paul  detailed  some  of  the  grievances  to  which  he 


PAUL  PKESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  157 

had  been  subjected.    Mrs.  Danforth  listened  with  sympathiz- 
ing attention. 

*'  You  were  entirely  justified  in  running  away,"  she  said,  as 
he  concluded.  *'  I  can  hardly  imagine  so  great  a  lack  of  hu- 
manity as  these  people  showed.  You  are  now,  I  hope,  pleas- 
antly situated  ?  " 

**  Yes,"  said  Paul,  **  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cameron  treat  me  with 
as  great  kindness  as  if  I  were  their  own  child." 

"Cameron!     Is  not  that  the  name  of  the  sexton  of  our 
church?"  said  Mrs.  Danforth,  meditatively. 
*'  It  is  with  him  that  I  have  a  pleasant  home." 
*'  Indeed,  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.    You  have  been  attending 
school,  I  suppose." 

**  Yes,  it  is  not  more  than  two  months  since  I  left  off 
school." 

*•  And  now  I  suppose  you  are  thinking  of  entering  upon 
some  business." 

**  Yes ;  I  have  been  trying  to  obtain  a  place  in  some  mer- 
chant's counting-room." 

**  You  think,  then,  that  you  would  like  the  career  of  a  mei- 
chant?" 

**  There  is  nothing  that  would  suit  me  better." 
'•  You  have  not  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  place  yet,  I  sup- 
pose ?  " 

'*  No.  They  are  very  difficult  to  get,  and  I  hare  no  influen- 
tial friends  to  assist  me." 

"I  have  heard  Mr.  Danforth  say  that  he  experienced  equal 
difficulty  when  he  came  to  New  York,  a  poor  boy." 
Paul  looked  surprised. 

*'  I  see  that  you  are  surprised,"  said  Mrs.  Danforth,  smiling 
*'  You  think,  perhaps,  judging  from  what  you  see,  that  my 
husband  was  always  rich.  But  he  was  the  son  of  a  poor 
farmer,  and  was  obliged  to  make  his  own  way  in  the  world. 
By  the  blessing  of  God,  he  has  boen  prospered  in  business, 
and  become  rich.    But  he  often  speaks  of  his  early  discourage- 


158  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

luents  and  small  beginnings.  I  am  sorry  lie  is  not  here  this 
evening.  By  the  way,  he  left  word  for  you  to  call  at  his 
counting-room  to-morrow,  at  eleven  o'clock.  I  will  give  you 
his  address." 

She  handed  Paul  a  card  containing  the  specified  number, 
and  soon  after  he  withdrew,  bearing  with  him  his  handsome 
gift,  and  a  cordial  invitation  to  repeat  his  call. 

He  looked  back  at  the  elegant  mansion  which  he  had  just 
left,  and  could  not  help  feeUng  surprised  that  the  owner  of 
such  a  palace,  should  have  started  in  life  with  no  greater  ad- 
vantages than  himself. 


XXV. 

AN  OLD    ACQUAINTANCE. 

Paui,  slept  late  the  next  morning.  He  did  not  heai-  the 
breakfast-bell,  and  when  the  sexton  came  up  to  awaken  him  he 
rubbed  his  eyes  with  such  an  expression  of  bewilderment  that 
Mr.  Cameron  could  not  forbear  laughing. 

**  You  must  have  had  queer  dreams,  Paul,"  said  he. 

"Yes,  Uncle  Hugh,"  said  Paul,  laughing,  *'I  believe  I 
have." 

"  When  you  have  collected  your  wits,  which  at  present  seem 
absent  on  a  wool-gathering  expedition,  perhaps  you  will  tell 
what  you  have  been  dreaming  about." 

"  So  I  will,"  said  Paul,  "  and  perhaps  you  can  Interpret  It 
for  me.  I  dreamed  that  I  was  back  again  at  Mr.  Mudge's, 
and  that  he  sent  me  out  into  the  field  to  dig  potatoes.  I  worked 
away  at  the  first  hill,  but  found  no  potatoes.  In  place  of 
them  were  several  gold  pieces.  I  picked  them  up  in  great  sur- 
prise, and  instead  of  putting  them  into  the  basket,  concluded 
to  put  them  in  my  pocket.  But  as  all  the  hills  turned  out  in  the 
same  way  I  got  my  pockets  full,  and  had  to  put  the  rest  in  the 
basket.  I  was  just  wondering  what  they  would  do  for  potatoes, 
when  all  at  once  a  great  dog  came  up  and  seized  me  by  the 

arm  "  — 

**  And  you  opened  your  eyes  and  saw  me,"  said  the  sexton, 
finishing  out  his  narrative.  *'  Upon  my  word,  that's  very  com- 
plimentary to  me.    However,  some  of  our  potatoes  have  es- 


160  PAUL  pkescott's  charge. 

caped  transformation  into  gold  pieces,  but  I  am  afraid  you  will 
fiud  them  rather  cold  if  you  don't  get  down  to  breakfast  pretty 
quick." 

•'  All  right,  Uncle  Hugh.     I'll  be  down  in  a  jiffy." 

About  half-past  ten  Paul  started  on  his  way  to  Mr.  Danforth's 
counting-room.  It  was  located  on  Wall  Street,  as  he  learned 
from  the  card  which  had  been  given  him  by  Mrs.  Danforth. 
He  felt  a  little  awkward  in  making  this  call.  It  seemed  as  if  he 
were  going  to  receive  thanks  for  the  service  which  he  had 
rendered,  and  he  felt  that  he  had  already  been  abundantly  re- 
paid. However,  he  was  bound  in  courtesy  to  call,  since  he 
did  so  at  the  request  of  Mrs.  Danforth. 

It  was  a  large  stone  building,  divided  up  into  offices,  to 
which  Paul  had  been  directed.  Mr.  Danforth's  office  he  found 
after  a  little  search,  upon  the  second  floor. 

He  opened  the  door  with  a  little  embarrassment,  and  looked 
about  him. 

In  one  corner  was  a  small  room,  used  as  a  more  private 
office,  the  door  of  which  was  closed.  In  the  larger  room  the 
only  one  whom  he  saw,  was  a  boy,  apparently  about  his  own 
age,  who  was  standing  at  a  desk  and  writing. 

This  boy  looked  around  as  Paul  entered,  and  he  at  once 
recognized  in  him  an  old  acquaintance. 

"  George  Dawkins  !"  he  exclaimed  in  surprise. 

The  latter  answered  in  a  careless  indifferent  tone,  not  ex- 
hibiting any  very  decided  pleasure  at  meeting  his  old  school- 
mate. 

♦'  Oh,  it's  you,  Prescott,  is  it.f'  " 

♦'Yes,"  said  Paul,  "I  haven't  met  you  since  you  left  our 
school." 

"  No,  I  believe  we  have  not  me*^,"  said  Dawkins,  in  the  same 
tone  a^  before. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  in  this  office  ?  "  asked  our  hero. 

•'  I  really  can't  say,"  said  Dawkins,  not  looking  up. 

*♦  You  can't  say!" 

*'  No,  I'm  rather  forgetful." 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  161 

Paul  could  not  help  feeling  chilled  at  the  indlflfercnt  manner 
in  which  his  advances  were  met.  He  had  been  really  glad  to 
see  Dawkins,  and  had  addressed  him  with  cordiality.  He  could 
not  conceal  from  himself  that  Dawkius  did  not  seem  inclined  to 
respond  to  it. 

"Still,"  thought  Paul,  extenuatlngly,  **  perhaps  that  is  his 

way." 

As  the  conversation  began  to  flag,  Paul  was  reminded  of  his 
errand  by  Dawkins  saying,  in  a  tone  which  was  half  a  sneer, 
"Have  you  any  business  with  Mr.  Danforth  this  morning,  or 
did  you  merely  come  in  out  of  curiosity  ?  " 

•*  I  have  called  to  see  Mr.  Danforth,"  said  Paul. 

**  He  is  usually  pretty  busy  in  the  morning,"  said  Dawkins. 

•*He  directed  me  to  call  in  the  morning,"  said  Paul, 
sturdily. 

•*  Oh,  indeed !"  said  Dawkins,  a  little  surprised.  •*  I  wonder," 
he  thought,  "  what  business  this  fellow  can  have  with  Mr.  Dan- 
forth.    Can  he  be  fishing  for  a  place  ?  " 

"Mr.  Danforth  is  engaged  with  a  visitor  just  now,"  heat 
length  condescended  to  say ;  "  if  your  time  is  not  too  valuable 
to  wait,  you  can  see  him  by-and-by." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Paul,  rather  nettled,  "you  are  very 
polite." 

To  this  Dawkins  made  no  reply,  but  resumed  his  pen,  and 
for  the  next  ten  minutes  seemed  entirely  oblivious  of  Paul's 
presence. 

"  Our  hero  took  up  the  morning  paper,  and  began,  as  he  had 
80  often  done  before,  to  look  over  the  list  of  wants,  thinkmg  it 
possible  he  might  find  some  opening  for  himself. 

About  ten  minutes  later  the  door  of  the  inner  office  opened, 
and  two  gentlemen  came  out.  One  was  a  gentleman  of  fifty, 
a  business  friend  of  Mr.  Danforth's,  the  other  was  JMr.  Danforth 
himself. 

The  former  remarked,  on  seeing  Paul,  "  Is  this  your  son, 
Danforth?" 


162  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

*'No,"  said  the  merchant^  nodding  in  a  friendly  manner  to 
Paul. 

*♦  That's  a  good  joke,"  thought  Dawklns,  chuckling  to  him- 
self; '*Mr.  Danforth  must  be  immensely  flattered  at  having  a 
sexton's  adopted  son  taken  for  his." 

After  a  final  word  or  two  on  business  matters,  and  arrange- 
ments for  another  interview,  the  visitor  departed,  and  JVIr.  Dan- 
forth, now  at  leisure,  turned  to  Paul. 

'*  Now  my  lad,"  he  said  kindly,  *'  if  you  will  follow  me,  we 
shall  have  a  chance  to  talk  a  little." 

Paul  followed  the  merchant  into  his  office,  the  door  of  which 
was  closed,  much  to  the  regret  of  Dawklns,  who  had  a  tolera- 
bly large  share  of  curiosity,  and  was  very  anxious  to  find  out 
what  business  Paul  could  possibly  have  with  his  employer. 

**  Take  that  seat,  if  you  please  ;"  said  Mr.  Danforth,  motion- 
ing Paul  to  an  arm-chair,  and  sitting  down  himself,  '*  Mrs. 
Danforth  told  me  from  how  great  a  peril  you  rescued  her.  You 
are  a  brave  boy." 

**  I  don't  know,"  said  Paul,  modestly,  **  I  did  n't  think  of  the 
danger.     If  I  had,  perhaps  I  should  have  hesitated." 

**  If  you  had  not  been  brave  you  would  have  thought  of  your 
own  risk.  My  wife  and  myself  are  under  very  great  obliga- 
tions to  you." 

**  That  more  than  repays  me  for  all  I  did,"  said  Paul,  in  a 
tone  of  mingled  modesty  and  manliness. 

*'  I  like  the  boy,"  thought  ]Mr.  Danforth;  **  he  is  certainly 
quite  superior  to  the  common  run." 

*•  Have  you  left  school  ?  "  he  inquired,  after  a  pause. 

**  Yes,  sir.     Last  term  closed  my  school  life." 

*'  Then  you  have  never  been  in  a  situatioQ.'* 

*•  Yes,  sir." 

**  Indeed !    Before  you  left  school  ?  " 

*'  No,  sir,  since." 

«*  You  did  not  like  it,  then?  " 

•*  No,  sir,"  said  Paul. 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  163 

**  And  was  that  the  reason  of  your  leaving  ?  " 

**  No,  sir ;  my  employer  was  not  satisfied  with  me,"  said  Paul, 
frankly. 

*'  Indeed !  I  am  surprised  to  hear  this !  If  you  have  no  ob- 
jection, will  you  tell  me  the  circumstances  ?  " 

Paul  related  in  a  straightforward  manner  the  difficulty  h& 
had  had  with  Smith  &  Thompson. 

*'I  hope  you  don't  think  I  did  wrong,"  he  concluded. 

**  By  no  means,"  said  Mr.  Danforth,  warmly.  **  Your  con- 
duct was  entirely  creditable.  As  for  Smith,  I  know  of  him. 
He  is  a  sharper.  It  would  have  done  you  no  good  to  remain 
in  his  employ." 

Paul  was  pleased  with  this  commendation.  He  had  thought 
it  possible  that  his  dismissal  from  his  former  situation  might 
operate  against  him  with  the  merchant. 

*'What  are  your  present  plans  and  wishes  .►*"  asked  Mr. 
Danforth,  after  a  slight  pause. 

**  I  should  like  to  enter  a  merchant's  counting-room,"  said 
Paul,  '*  but  as  such  places  are  hard  to  get,  I  think  I  shall  try  to 
get  into  a  store." 

Mr.  Danforth  reflected  a  moment,  then  placing  a  piece  of 
paper  before  our  hero,  he  said,  "Will  you  write  your  name 
and  address  on  this  paper,  that  I  may  know  where  to  find  you, 
in  case  I  hear  of  a  place  ?  " 

Paul  did  as  directed.  He  had  an  excellent  handwriting,  a 
point  on  which  the  merchant  set  a  high  value. 

The  latter  surveyed  the  address  with  approval,  and  said, 
**  I  am  glad  you  write  so  excellent  a  hand.  It  will  be  of  ma- 
terial assistance  to  you  in  securing  a  place  In  a  counting-room. 
Indeed,  it  has  been  already,  for  I  have  just  thought  of  a  place 
which  I  can  obtain  for  you." 

**  Can  you,  sir?"  said  Paul,  eagerly.     "Where  is  It?" 

*•  In  my  own  counting-room,"  said  Mr.  Danforth,  smiling. 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  ypu,"  said  Paul,  hardly  believing 
his  ears. 


164  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

**  I  was  prepared  to  give  it  to  you  when  you  came  in,  in  case 
I  found  you  qualified.  The  superiority  of  your  handwriting 
decides  me.     When  can  you  come  ?  " 

**  To-morrow,  if  you  like,  sir." 

*'  I  like  your  promptness.  As  it  is  the  middle  of  the  week» 
however,  you  may  take  a  vacation  till  Monday.  Your  salary 
will  begin  to-morrow." 

*'  Thank  you,  sir." 

**  I  will  give  you  five  dollars  per  week  at  first,  and  more  as 
your  services  become  more  valuable.  Will  that  be  satisfac- 
tory ?  " 

**  I  shall  feel  rich,  sir.  Mr.  Smith  only  gave  me  a  dollar 
and  a  quarter." 

"I  hope  you  will  find  other  differences  between  me  and 
Mr.  Smith,"  said  the  merchant,  smiling. 

These  preliminaries  over,  Mr.  Danforth  opened  the  door, 
and"  glancing  at  Dawkins,  said,  '*  Dawkins,  I  wish  you  to  be- 
come acquainted  with  your  fellow  clerk,  Paul  Prescott." 

Dawkins  looked  surprised,  and  anything  but  gratified  as  he 
responded  stiffly,  **  I  have  the  honor  of  being  already  ac- 
quainted with  ]\Ir.  Prescott." 

*'  He  is  a  little  jealous  of  an  interloper,"  thought  Mr.  Dan- 
forth, noticing  the  repellent  manner  of  young  Dawkins. 
**  Kever  mind,  they  will  get  acquainted  after  awhile." 

When  George  Dawkins  went  home  to  dinner,  his  father  ob- 
gerved  the  dissatisfied  look  he  wore. 

'•  Is  anytliing  amiss,  my  son  ?  "   he  inquired. 

'*  I  should  think  there  was,"  gi'umbled  his  son. 
What  is  it?" 
We  've  got  a  new  clerk,  and  who  do  you  think  it  is  ?  " 

'*Whoisit?" 

••The  adopted  son  of  old  Cameron,  the  sexton." 

"  Indeed,"  said  ^Mrs.  Dawkins.  **  I  really  wonder  at  ISir. 
Danforth's  bad  taste.  There  are  many  boys  of  genteel  family, 
who  would  have  been  glad  of  the  chance.  This  boy  is  ft  low 
fellow  of  coui*se." 


PAUL   PKESCOTT*S    CHARGE.  165 

"  Certainly,"  said  her  son,  though  he  was  quite  aware  that 
this  was  not  true. 

"  What  could  have  brought  the  boy  to  Danforth's  notice  ?  " 
isked  Dawkins,  senior. 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  The  boy  has  managed  to  get 
round  him  in  some  way.     He  is  very  artful." 

**  I  really  think,  husband,  that  you  ought  to  remonstrate 
with  Mr.  Danforth  about  taking  such  a  low  fellow  into  his 
jounting-room  with  our  George." 

"  Pooh  ! "  said  Mr.  Dawkins,  who  was  a  shade  more  sensible 
ihan  his  wife,  '*  he  'd  think  me  a  meddler." 

**  At  any  rate,  George,"  pursued  his  mother,  "there's  one 
thing  that  is  due  to  your  family  and  bringing  up,  —  not  to  as- 
sociate with  this  low  fellow  any  more  than  business  requires," 

*•  I  certainly  shall  not,"  said  George,  promptly. 

He  was  the  worthy  sou  of  such  a  mother. 


XXVI. 

A  VULGAR    RELATION. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  week,  Paul  received  five  dollars,  the 
sum  -which  the  merchant  had  agreed  to  pay  liim  for  his  services. 
With  this  he  felt  very  rich.  He  hurried  home,  and  displayed 
to  the  sexton  the  crisp  bank  note  which  had  been  given  him. 

*' You  will  soon  be  a  rich  man,  Paul,"  said  Mr.  Cameron, 
with  a  benevolent  smile,  returning  the  bill. 

*'  But  I  want  you  to  keep  it.  Uncle  Hugh." 

**  Shall  I  put  it  in  the  Savings  Bank,  for  you,  Paul  ?  " 

"I  didn't  mean  that.  You  have  been  supporting  me  — 
giving  me  board  and  clothes  —  for  three  year.s.  It  is  only 
right  that  you  should  have  what  I  earn." 

*'  The  offer  is  an  honorable  one  on  your  part,  Paul,"  said 
the  sexton ;  '*  but  I  don't  need  it.  If  it  will  please  you,  I  will 
take  two  dollars  a  week  for  your  board,  now,  and  out  of  the 
balance  you  may  clothe  yourself,  and  save  what  you  can." 

This  arrangement  seemed  to  be  a  fair  one.  Mr.  Cameron 
deposited  the  five  dollar  note  in  his  pocket-book,  and  passed 
one  of  three  dollars  to  Paul.  This  sum  our  hero  deposited  the 
next  Monday  morning.  In  a  savings  bank.  He  estimated  that  he 
could  clothe  himself  comfortably  for  fifty  dollars  a  year.  This 
would  leave  him  one  hundred  towards  the  payment  of  the  debt 
due  to  Squire  Conant. 

*'  By-and-by  my  salary  will    be    raised,"    thought    Paul 
*'  Then  I  can  save  more." 


PAUL  PRESCOTT's   CHARGE.  167 

He  looked  forward  with  eager  anticipation  to  the  time  when 
he  should  be  able  to  redeem  his  father's  name,  and  no  one 
would  be  entitled  to  cast  reproach  upon  his  memory. 

He  endeavored  to  perform  his  duties  faithfully  in  the  office, 
and  to  learn  as  rapidly  as  he  could  the  business  upon  which  he 
had  entered.  He  soon  found  that  he  must  depend  mainly 
upon  himself.  George  Dawkins  seemed  disposed  to  afford 
him  no  assistance,  but  repelled  scornfully  the  advances  which 
Paul  made  towards  cordiality.  He  was  by  no  means  as  faithful 
as  Paul,  but  whenever  Mr.  Danforth  was  absent  from  the  office, 
spent  his  time  in  lounging  at  the  window,  or  reading  a  cheap 
novel,  with  one  of  which  he  was  usually  provided. 

When  Paul  became  satisfied  that  Dawkins  was  not  inclined 
to  accept  his  overtures,  he  ceased  to  court  his  acquaintance, 
and  confined  himself  to  his  own  desk. 

One  day  as  he  was  returning  from  dinner,  he  was  startled 
by  an  unceremonious  slap  upon  the  shoulder. 

Looking  up  in  some  surprise,  he  found  that  this  greeting  had 
come  from  a  man  just  behind  him,  whose  good-humored  face 
and  small,  twinkling  eyes,  he  at  once  recognized. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr  Stubbs?"  inquired  Paul,  his  face 
lighting  up  with  pleasure. 

*'  I  'm  so 's  to  be  round.  How  be  you  ?  "  returned  the  wor- 
thy pedler,  seizing  our  hero's  hand  and  shaking  it  heartily. 

Mr.  Stubbs  was  attired  in  all  the  glory  of  a  blue  coat  with 
brass  buttons  and  swallow  tails. 

•*  When  did  you  come  to  New  York? "asked  Paul. 

**  Just  arrived ;  that  is,  I  got  in  this  mornin'.  But  I  say,  how 
you  've  grown.     I  should  n't  hardly  have  known  you." 

*'  Should  n't  you,  though  ?  "  said  Paul,  gratified  as  most  boys 
are,  on  being  told  that  he  had  grown.  *'  Have  you  come  to 
the  city  on  business  ?  " 

•*  Well,  kinder  on  business,  and  kmder  not.  I  thought  I'd 
like  to  have  a  vacation.  Besides,  the  old  lady  wanted  a  silk 
dress,  and  she  was  sot  on  havin'  it  bought  in  York.  So  I 
come  to  the  city." 


168  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

•*  Where  are  you  stopping,  Mr.  Stubbs  ?  '* 

"  Over  to  the  Astor  House.     Pretty  big  hotel,  ain't  it?  " 

**  Yes,  I  see  you  are  travelling  in  style." 

**  Yes,  I  suppose  they  charge  considerable,  but  I  guess  I  can 
stand  it.  I  hain't  been  drivin'  a  tin-cart  for  nothin'  the  last  ten 
years. 

**  How  have  you  been  enjoying  yourself  since  you  arrived  ?  " 

**0h,  pretty  well.  I 've  been  round  seeing  the  lions,  and 
came  pretty  near  seeing  the  elephant  at  one  of  them  Peter 
Funk  places." 

"  You  did !      Tell  rae  about  it." 

**  You  see  I  was  walkiu'  along  when  a  fellow  came  out  of  one 
of  them  places,  and  asked  rae  if  I  would  n't  go  in.  I  did  n't 
want  to  refuse  such  a  polite  invitation,  and  besides  I  had  a 
curiosity  to  see  what  there  was  to  be  seen,  so  I  went  in.  They 
put  up  a  silver  watch,  I  could  see  that  it  was  a  good  one,  and 
60  I  bid  on  it.  It  ran  up  to  eight  dollars  and  a  quarter.  I 
thought  it  was  a  pity  it  should  go  off  so  cheap,  so  I  bid  eight 
and  a  half." 

*' '  Eight  and  a  half  and  sold/  said  the  man ;  *  shall  I  put  it 
up  for  youf ' 

**  '  No,  I  thank  you,'  said  T,  *  I'll  take  it  as  it  is.' 

**  *  But  I  '11  put  it  up  in  a  nice  box  for  you,'  said  he. 

**  I  told  him  I  did  n't  care  for  the  box.  He  seemed  very 
unwilling  to  let  it  go,  but  I  took  it  out  of  his  hand  and  he 
couldn't  help  himself.  Well,  when  they  made  out  the  bill, 
what  do  you  suppose  they  charged  ?  " 

"I  don't  know." 

*'  Why,  eighteen  and  a  half." 

*•  *  Look  here,'  said  I,  *  I  guess  here 's  something  of  a  mistake. 
You  've  got  ten  dollars  too  much.' 

•*  'I  think  you  must  be  mistaken, '  said  he,  smiling  a  foxy 
smile. 

"  '  You  know  I  am  not,'  said  I,  rather  cross. 

** '  We  can't  let  that  watch  go  for  anything  shorter,'  said  he, 
coolly 


r 

/  PAUL  PRESC0TT*8   CHARGE.  169 

1^^  Just  then  a  man  that  was  present  stepped  np  and  said, 
*  the  man  is  right ;  don't  attempt  to  impose  upon  him.' 

•*  With  that  he  calmed  right  down.  It  seems  it  was  a  police- 
man who  was  sent  to  watch  them,  that  spoke.  So  I  paid  the 
money,  but  as  I  went  out  I  heard  the  auctioneer  say  that  the 
sale  was  closed  for  the  day.  I  afterwards  learned  that  if  I  had 
allowed  them  to  put  the  watch  in  a  box,  they  would  have  ex- 
changed it  for  another  that  was  only  plated." 

**  Do  you  know  anybody  in  the  city  ?  "  asked  Paul. 

"  I  Ve  got  some  relations,  but  I  don't  know  where  they  live." 

**  What  is  the  name  ?  "  asked  Paul,  *'  we  can  look  into  thf 
directory." 

•*The  name  is  Dawkins,"  answered  the  pedler. 

'*  Dawkins  ! "  repeated  Paul,  in  surprise. 

**  Yes,  do  you  happen  to  know  anybody  of  the  name?" 

"  Yes,  but  I  believe  it  is  a  rich  family." 

**  Well,  so  are  my  relations,"  said  Jehoshaphat.  **  You  did  n't 
think  Jehoshaphat  Stubbs  had  any  rich  relations,  did  you? 
These,  as  I  've  heard  tell,  hold  their  heads  as  liigh  as  anybody. 

"Perhaps  I  may  be  mistaken,"  said  Paul.  **What  is  the 
name  —  the  Christian  name,  I  mean  —  of  your  relation  ?  " 

♦*  George." 

•*It  must  be  he,  then.  There  is  a  boy  of  about  my  own 
age  of  that  name.     He  works  in  the  same  office." 

**  You  don't  say  so  !  Well,  that  is  curious,  I  declare.  To 
think  that  I  should  have  happened  to  hit  upon  you  so  by 
accident  too." 

'*  How  are  you  related  to  them  ?  "  inquired  Paul. 

**  Why,  you  see,  I  'm  own  cousin  to  Mr.  Dawkins.  His  father 
and  my  mother  were  brother  and  sister." 

**  What  was  his  father's  business  ?  "  asked  Paul. 

*'  I  don't  know  what  his  regular  business  was,  but  he  was  a 
Bexton  in  some  church." 

This  tallied  with  the  account  Paul  had  received  from  Mr. 
15 


170  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

Cameron,  and  he  coull  no  longer  doubt  that,  strange  as  it 
seemed,  the  wealthy  Mr.  Dawkins  was  own  cousin  to  the  pedler. 

**  Didn't  you  say  the  boy  was  in  the  same  office  with  you, 
Paul?" 

"Yes." 

**  Well,  I  Vp.  a  great  mind  to  go  and  see  him,  and  find  out 
where  his  father  lives.  Perhaps  I  may  get  an  invite  to  his 
house." 

*'  How  shocked  Dawkins  will  be  ! "  thought  Paul,  not,  it  must 
be  confessed,  without  a  feeling  of  amusement.  He  felt  no 
compunction  in  being  the  instrument  of  mortifying  the  false 
pride  of  his  fellow  clerk,  and  he  accordingly  signified  to  Mr, 
Stubbs  that  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  counting-room. 

**  Are  you,  though?  Well,  I  guess  I  '11  go  along  with  you. 
Is  it  far  off?" 

**  Only  in  the  next  street." 

The  pedler,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  had  a  thoroughly 
countrified  appearance.  He  was  a  genuine  specimen  of  the 
Yankee,  —  a  long,  gaunt  figure,  somewhat  stooping,  and  with  a 
long  aquiline  nose.     His  dress  has  already  been  described. 

As  Dawkins  beheld  him  entering  with  Paul,  he  turned  up  his 
nose  in  disgust  at  what  he  considered  Paul's  friend. 

What  was  his  consternation  when  the  visitor,  approaching 
him  with  a  benignant  smile,  extended  his  brown  hand,  and  said, 
**  How  d'  y  do,  George  ?     How  are  ye  all  to  hum.^  " 

Dawkins  drew  back  haughtily. 

*'  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  said,  pale  with  passion, 

"Mr.  Dawkins,"  said  Paul,  with  suppressed  merriment, 
**  allow  me  to  introduce  your  cousin,  Mr.  Stubbs." 

"  Jehoshaphat  Stubbs,"  explained  that  individual.  *'  Did  n't 
your  father  never  mention  my  name  to  you  ?  " 

*•  Sir,"  said  Dawkins,  darting  a  furious  glance  at  Paul,  **  you 
are  entirely  mistaken  if  you  suppose  that  any  relationship 
exists  between  me  and  that — jerson," 


PAUL    PEESCOTT's    CHARGE.  171 

"  No,  It's  you  that  are  mistaken,"  said  Mr.  Stubbs,  per- 
Bevering.  ••  My  mother  was  Roxana  Jane  Dawkins.  She  was 
own  sister  to  your  grandfather.  That  makes  me  and  your 
father  cousins.     Don't  you  see  ?  " 

**  I  see  that  you  are  intending  to  insult  me,"  said  Dawkins, 
tlie  more  furiously,  because  he  began  to  fear  there  might  be 
some  truth  in  the  man's  claims.  **Mr.  Prescott,  I  leave  you 
to  entertain  your  company  yourself." 

And  he  threw  on  his  hat  and  dashed  out  of  the  counting- 
room. 

•*Well,"  said  the  pedler,  drawing  a  long  breath,  "that's 
cool,  —  denyln'  his  own  flesh  and  blood.  Rather  stuck  up, 
ain't  he  ?  " 

••  He  Is,  somewhat,"  said  Paul ;  *«  If  I  were  you,  I  should  n't 
be  disposed  to  own  him  as  a  relation." 

**  Darned  ef  I  will!"  said  Jehoshaphat,  sturdily;  "Ihave 
some  pride,  ef  I  am  a  pedler.  Guess  I  'm  as  good  as  he,  any 
day.** 


xxvn. 

MR.    MUDGE'S  fright. 

Sqihre  Newcoivie  sat  in  a  high-backed  chair  before  the 
6re  with  his  heels  on  the  fender.  He  was  engaged  in  solemnly 
perusing  the  leading  editorial  in  the  evening  paper,  when  all 
at  once  the  table  at  his  side  gave  a  sudden  lurch,  the  lamp  slid 
into  his  lap,  setting  the  paper  on  fire,  and,  before  the  Squire 
realized  his  situation,  the  jflames  singed  his  whiskers,  and  made 
his  face  unpleasantly  warm. 

**  Cre-a-tion  ! "  he  exclaimed,  jumping  briskly  to  his  feet. 

The  lamp  had  gone  out,  so  that  the  cause  of  the  accident  re- 
mained involved  in  mystery.  The  Squire  had  little  trouble  in 
conjecturing,  however,  that  Ben  was  at  the  bottom  of  it. 

Opening  the  door  hastily,  he  saw,  by  the  light  in  the  next 
room,  that  young  gentleman  rising  from  his  knees  in  the  im- 
mediate vicinity  of  the  table. 

"  Ben-ja-min,"  said  the  Squire,  sternly,  "What  have  you 
been  a-doing  ?  " 

Ben  looked  sheepish,  but  said  nothing. 

*'  I  repeat,  Benjamin,  what  have  you  been  a-doing?  " 

**  I  did  n't  mean  to,"  said  Ben. 

**  That  does  not  answer  my  interrogatory.  What  have  you 
been  a-doing  ?  " 

**  I  was  chasing  the  cat,"  said  Ben,  **  and  she  got  under  the 
table.  I  went  after  her,  and  somehow  it  upset.  Guess  my 
bead  might  have  knocked  against  the  legs." 


PAUL    PKESCOTT's    CHARGE.  173 

"  How  old  are  you,  Benjamin  ?  " 

"  Fifteen." 

**  A  boy  of  fifteen  is  too  old  to  play  with  cats.  You  may 
retire  to  your  dormitory." 

"  It 's  only  seven  o'clock,  father,"  said  Ben,  in  dismay. 

**  Boys  that  play  with  cats  are  young  enough  to  retire  at 
seven,"  remarked  the  Squire,  sagaciously. 

There  was  nothing  for  Ben  but  to  obey. 

Accordingly  with  reluctant  steps  he  went  up  to  his  chamber 
and  went  to  bed.  His  active  mind,  together  with  the  early 
hour,  prevented  his  sleeping.  Instead,  his  fertile  imagination 
was  employed  in  devising  some  new  scheme,  in  which,  of  course, 
fun  was  to  be  the  object  attained.  While  he  was  tliinking,  one 
scheme  flashed  upon  him  which  he  at  once  pronounced 
"  bully." 

*•  I  wish  I  could  do  it  to-night,"  he  sighed. 

**  Why  can't  1?  "  he  thought,  after  a  moment's  reflection. 

The  more  he  thought  of  it,  the  more  feasible  it  seemed,  and 
at  length  he  decided  to  attempt  it. 

Rising  from  his  bed  he  quickly  dressed  himself,  and  then 
carefully  took  the  sheet,  and  folding  it  up  in  small  compass  put 
it  under  his  arm. 

Next,  opening  the  window,  he  stepped  out  upon  the  sloping 
roof  of  the  ell  part,  and  slid  down  to  the  end  where  he  jumped 
off,  the  height  not  being  more  than  four  feet  from  the  ground. 
By  some  accident,  a  tub  of  suds  was  standing  under  the  eaves, 
and  Ben,  much  to  his  disgust,  jumped  into  it. 

"Whew!"  exclaimed  he,  "I've  jumped  Into  that  plaguy 
tub.     What  possessed  Hannah  to  put  it  in  a  fellow's  way  ?  " 

At  this  moment  the  back  door  opened,  and  Hannah  called 
out,  in  a  shrill  voice,  "  Who's  there  ?  "  Ben  hastily  hid  himself, 
and  thought  it  best  not  to  answer. 

**  I  guess  't  was  the  cat,"  said  Hannah,  as  she  closed  the  door 

**  A  two-legged  cat,"  thought  Ben,  to  himself;   "thunder, 
what  sopping  wet  feet  I  've  got.    Well,  it  can't  be  helped.'* 
16* 


174  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

With  the  sheet  still  under  his  arm,  Ben  climbed  a  fence  and 
running  across  the  fields  reached  the  fork  of  the  road.  Here 
he  concealed  himself  under  a  hedge,  and  waited  silently  till  the 
opportunity  for  playing  his  practical  joke  arrived. 

I  regi-et  to  say  that  Mr.  Mudge,  with  "Jv^hom  we  have  already 
had  considerable  to  do,  was  not  a  member  of  the  temperance  soci- 
ety. Latterly,  influenced  perhaps  by  Mrs.  Mudge's  tongue,  which 
made  his  home  far  from  a  happy  one,  he  had  got  into  the  habit 
of  spending  his  evenings  at  the  tavern  in  the  village,  where  he 
occasionally  indulged  in  potations  that  were  not  good  for  him. 
Generally,  he  kept  within  the  bounds  of  moderation,  but  occasion- 
ally he  exceeded  these,  as  he  had  done  on  the  present  occasion. 

Some  fifteen  minutes  after  Ben  had  taken  his  station,  he  saw, 
in  the  moonlight,  Mr.  Mudge  coming  up  the  road,  on  his  way 
home.  Judging  from  his  zigzag  course,  he  was  not  quite 
himself. 

Ben  waited  till  Mr.  Mudge  was  close  at  hand,  when  all  at 
once  he  started  from  his  place  of  concealment,  completely  en- 
veloped in  the  sheet  with  which  he  was  provided.  He  stood 
motionless  before  the  astounded  Mudge. 

**  Who  are  you?"  exclaimed  Mudge,  his  knees  knocking 
together  in  terror,  clinging  to  an  overhanging  branch  for 
support. 

There  was  no  answer. 

*'  Who  are  you  ?"  he  again  asked  in  affright. 

**  Sally  Baker,"  returned  Ben,  in  as  sepulchral  a  voice  as  he 
could  command. 

Sally  Baker  was  an  old  pauper,  who  had  recently  died.  Tlie 
name  occurred  to  Ben  on  the  spur  of  the  moment.  It  was  with 
some  difficulty  that  he  succeeded  in  getting  out  the  name,  such 
was  his  amusement  at  Mr.  Mudge's  evident  terror. 

**  What  do  you  want  of  me  ?  "  inquired  Mudge,  nervously. 

"  You  half  starved  me  when  I  was  alive,"  returned  Ben,  in  a 
•lollow  voice,  **  I  must  be  revenged." 

So  saying  he  took  one  step  forward,  spreading  out  his  arms. 


Mr.  Mudge  and  the  Ghost. 


PAUL   PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  175 

This  was  too  much  for  Mr.  Mudge.  With  a  cry  he  started 
and  ran  towards  home  at  tLe  top  of  his  speed,  with  Ben  in 
pursuit. 

**  I  believe  I  shall  die  of  laughing,"  exclaimed  Ben,  pausing 
out  of  breath,  and  sitting  down  on  a  stone,  **  what  a  donkej 
he  is,  to  be  sure,  to  think  there  are  such  things  as  ghosts.  I  'd 
like  to  be  by  when  he  tells  Mrs.  Mudge." 

After  a  moment's  thought,  Ben  wrapped  up  the  sheet,  took  it 
under  his  arm,  and  once  more  ran  in  pursuit  of  Mr.  Mudge. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Mudge  was  sitting  in  the  kitchen  of  the 
Poorhouse,  mending  stockings.  She  was  not  in  the  pleasantest 
humor,  for  one  of  the  paupers  had  managed  to  break  a  plate  at 
tea-table  (if  that  can  be  called  tea  where  no  tea  is  provided), 
and  trifles  were  sufficient  to  ruffle  Mrs.  Mudge's  temper. 

**  Where's  Mudge,  I  wonder?  "  she  said,  sharply ;  "  over  to 
the  tavern,  I  s'pose,  as  usual.  There  never  was  such  a  shiftless, 
good-for-nothing  man.  I  'd  better  have  stayed  unmarried  all 
the  days  of  my  life  than  have  married  him.  If  he  don't  get  in 
by  ten,  I  '11  lock  the  door,  and  it  shall  stay  locked.  'T  will  serve 
him  right  to  stay  out  doors  all  night." 

Minutes  slipped  away,  and  the  decisive  hour  approached. 

*'  I'll  go  to  the  door  and  look  out,"  thought  Mrs.  Mudge, 
**  if  he  ain't  anywhere  in  sight  I  '11  fasten  the  door." 

She  laid  down  her  work  and  went  to  the  door. 

She  had  not  quite  reached  it  when  it  was  flung  open  vio- 
lently, and  Mr.  Mudge,  with  a  wild,  disordered  look,  rushed 
in,  nearly  overturning  his  wife,  who  gazed  at  him  with  mingled 
anger  and  astonishment. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  this  foolery,  Mudge?"  she  de- 
manded, sternly. 

"  What  do  I  mean?"  repeated  her  husband,  vaguely. 

**  I  need  n't  ask  you,"  said  his  wife,  contemptuously.  "  I 
Bee  how  it  is,  well  enough.      You're  drunk !  " 

"Drunk!" 

*'  Yes,  drunk ;  as  drunk  as  a  beast." 


176  PAUL  prescott's   chakge. 

*'  Well,  Mrs.  Mudge,"  hiccupped  her  husband,  in  what  he  en- 
deavored  to  make  a  dignified  tone,  "  you  'd  be  drunk  too  if 
you  'd  seen  what  I  Ve  seen." 

"And  what  have  you  seen,  I  should  like  to  know?  "said 
Mrs.  Mudge. 

Mudge  rose  with  some  difficulty,  steadied  himself  on  his  feet, 
and  approaching  his  wife,  whispered  in  a  tragic  tone,  '*  Mrs. 
Mudge,  I  Ve  seen  a  sperrit." 

"It's  plain  enough  that  you've  seen  spirit,"  retorted  his 
wife.  ** '  Tis  n't  many  nights  that  you  don't,  for  that  matter. 
You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  Mudge." 

"  It  is  n't  that,"  said  her  hu'^band,  shaking  his  hand,  **  it 's  a 
sperrit,  —  a  ghost,  that  I  've  seen." 

♦♦Indeed!"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  sarcastically,  ♦♦perhaps  you 
can  tell  whose  it  is.'* 

*♦  It  was  the  sperrit  of  Sally  Baker,"  said  Mudge,  solemnly. 
"What   did    she  say?"   demanded    Mrs.   Mudge,  a  little 
curiously. 

*♦  She  said  that  I  —  that  we,  half  starved  her,  and  then  she 
started  to  run  after  me  —  and  —  oh,  Lordy,  there  she  is  now ! " 
Mudge  jumped  trembling  to  his  feet.  Following  the  direc- 
tion of  his  outstretched  finger,  Mrs.  Mudge  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  white  figure  just  before  the  window.  I  need  hardly  say 
that  it  was  Ben,  who  had  just  arrived  upon  the  scene. 

IMrs.  Mudge  was  at  first  stupefied  by  what  she  saw,  but  being 
a  woman  of  courage  she  speedily  recovered  herself,  and  seizing 
the  broom  from  behind  the  door,  darted  out  in  search  of  the 
"  spirit."  But  Ben,  perceiving  that  he  was  discovered,  had 
disappeared,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen. 

*♦  Did  n't  I  tell  you  so?"  muttered  Mudge,  as  his  wife  re- 
entered, baffled  in  her  attempt,  ♦♦  you  '11  believe  it 's  a  sperrit, 
now." 

♦♦  Go  to  bed,  you  fool ! "  retorted  his  wife. 
This  was  all  that  passed  between  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mudge  on 
the  subject.     Mr.  Mudge  firmly  believes,  to  this  day,  that  the 
figure  wliich  appeared  to  him  was  the  spirit  of  Sally  Baker. 


XXYJU. 

HOW  BEX    GOT  HOME. 

Delighted  with  the  complete  success  of  his  practical  joke, 
Ben  took  his  way  homeward  with  the  sheet  under  his  arm.  By 
the  time  he  reached  his  father's  house  it  was  ten  o'clock.  The 
question  for  Ben  to  consider  now  was,  how  to  get  in.  If  his 
father  had  not  fastened  the  front  door  he  might  steal  In ,  and 
slip  up  stairs  on  tip-toe  without  being  heard.  This  would  be 
the  easiest  way  of  overcoming  the  difficulty,  and  Ben,  per- 
ceiving that  tlie  light  was  still  burning  in  the  sitting-room,  had 
some  hopes  that  he  would  be  able  to  adopt  it.  But  while  he 
was  only  a  couple  of  rods  distant  he  saw  the  lamp  taken  up  by 
his  father,  who  appeared  to  be  moving  from  the  room. 

**  He's  going  to  lock  the  front  door,"  thought  Ben,  in  dis- 
appointment ;  *'  if  I  had  only  got  along  five  minutes  sooner." 

From  his  post  outside  he  heard  the  key  turn  in  the  lock. 

The  'Squire  little  dreamed  that  the  son  whom  he  imagined 
fast  asleep  in  his  room  was  just  outside  the  door  he  was  locking. 

**I  guess  I '11  go  round  to  the  back  part  of  the  house," 
thought  Ben,  "perhaps  I  can  get  in  the  same  way  I  came 
out." 

Accordingly  he  went  round  and  managed  to  clamber  upon 
the  roof,  which  was  only  four  feet  from  the  ground.  But  a 
brief  trial  served  to  convince  our  young  adventurer  that  it  is  a 
good  deal  easier  sliding  down  a  roof  than  it  is  climbing  up. 
The  shingles  being  old  were  slippery,  and  though  the  ascent 
was  not  steep,  Ben  found  the  progress  he  made  was  very  much 


178  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

like  that  of  a  man  at  the  bottom  of  a  well,  who  is  reported  as 
falling  back  two  feet  for  every  three  that  he  ascended.  What 
increased  the  difficulty  of  his  attempt  was  that  the  soles  of  his 
shoes  were  well  worn,  and  slippery  as  well  as  the  shingles. 

**  I  never  can  get  up  this  way,"  Ben  concluded,  after  several 
fruitless  attempts ;  '*  I  know  what  I'll  do,"  he  decided,  after  a 
moment's  perplexity;  **I'll  pull  off  my  shoes  and  stockings, 
and  then  I  guess  I  can  get  along  better." 

Ben  accordingly  got  down  from  the  roof,  and  pulled  off  his 
shoes  and  stockings.  As  he  wanted  to  carry  these  with  him, 
he  was  at  first  a  little  puzzled  by  this  new  difficulty.  He  finally 
tied  the  shoes  together  by  the  strings  and  hung  them  round  his 
neck.  He  disposed  of  the  stockings  by  stuffing  one  in  each 
pocket. 

"  Now,"  thought  Ben,  *•  I  guess  I  can  get  along  better.  I 
don't  know  what  to  do  with  the  plaguy  sheet,  though." 

But  necessity  is  the  mother  of  invention,  and  Ben  found 
that  he  could  throw  the  sheet  over  his  shoulders,  as  a  lady 
does  with  her  shawl.  Thus  accoutred  he  recommenced  the 
ascent  with  considerable  confidence. 

He  found  that  his  bare  feet  clung  to  the  roof  more  tena- 
ciously than  the  shoes  had  done,  and  success  was  already  within 
his  grasp,  when  an  unforeseen  mishap  frustrated  his  plans. 
He  had  accomplished  about  three  quarters  of  the  ascent  when 
all  at  once  the  string  which  united  the  shoes  which  he  had 
hung  round  his  neck  gave  way,  and  both  fell  with  a  great 
thump  on  the  roof.  Ben  made  a  clutch  for  them  in  which  he 
lost  his  own  hold,  and  made  a  hurried  descent  In  their  com- 
pany, alighting  with  his  bare  feet  on  some  flinty  gravel  stones, 
which  he  found  by  no  means  agreeable. 

*'0w!"  ejaculated  Ben,  limping  painfully,  **  them  plaguy 
gravel  stones  hurt  like  thunder.  I  '11  move  'em  away  the  first 
thing  to-morrow.  If  that  confounded  shoe-string  hadn't 
broken  I  'd  have  been  in  bed  by  this  time." 

Meanwhile  Hannah  had  been  sitting  over  the  kitchen  fire  en- 


PAUL    PRESCOTT'S    CHARGE.  179 

joying  a  social  chat  with  a  •*  cousin  "  of  hers  from  Ireland,  a 
young  man  whom  she  had  never  seen  or  heard  of  three  months 
before.  In  what  way  he  had  succeeded  in  convincing  her  of  the 
relationship  I  have  never  been  able  to  learn,  but  he  had  man- 
aged to  place  himself  on  familiar  visiting  terms  with  the  inmate 
of 'Squire  Newcome's  kitchen. 

•*  It's  only  me  cousin,  sir,"  Hannah  explained  to  the  'Squire, 
when  he  had  questioned  her  on  the  subject;  "he's  just  from 
Ireland,  sir,  and  it  seems  like  home  to  see  him." 

On  the  present  occasion  Tim  Flaherty  had  outstayed  liis  usual 
time,  and  was  still  in  the  kitchen  when  Ben  reached  home. 
They  did  not  at  first  hear  him,  but  when  he  made  his  last 
abortive  attempt,  and  the  shoes  came  clatttering  down,  they 
could  not  help  hearing. 

**  What 's  that?  "  asked  Hannah,  listening  attentively. 

She  went  to  the  door  to  look  out,  her  cousin  following. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  seen. 

"  Perhaps  you  was  dramin',  Hannah,"  said  Tim,  "  more  bj 
token,  it 's  time  we  was  both  doin'  that  same,  so  I  '11  bid  you 
good-night." 

**  Come  again,  soon,  Tim,"  said  Hannah,  preparing  to  close 
the  door. 

A  new  plan  of  entrance  flashed  upon  Ben. 

He  quickly  put  on  his  shoes  and  stockings,  unfolded  the 
sheet  and  prepared  to  enact  the  part  of  a  ghost  once  more,  — 
this  time  for  the  special  benefit  of  Hannah. 

After  fully  attiring  himself  he  came  to  the  back  door  which 
Hannah  had  already  locked,  and  tapped  three  times. 

Hannah  was  engaged  in  raking  out  the  kitchen  fire. 

**  Shure  it's  Tim  come  back,"  thought  she,  as  she  went  tc 
the  door.     "  Perhaps  he's  forgotten  something." 

She  opened  the  door  unsuspiciously,  fully  expecting  to  sea 
her  Irish  cousin  standing  before  her. 

What  was  her  terror  on  beholding  a  white-robed  figure,  with 
extended  arms. 


180  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

**  Howly  virgin,  defend  me!"  she  exclaimed,  in  paralyzing 
terror,  which  was  increased  by  a  guttural  sound  which  pro- 
ceeded from  the  throat  of  the  ghost,  who  at  the  same  time  waved 
his  arras  aloft,  and  made  a  step  towards  Hannah. 

Hannah,  with  a  wild  howl  dropped  the  lamp  and  fled  to- 
wards the  sitting-room,  where  'Squire  Newcome  was  still  sitting. 

Ben  sped  up-stairs  at  the  top  of  his  speed,  dashed  into  his 
own  chamber,  spread  the  sheet  on  the  b«d,  and  undressed  so 
rapidly  that  he  seemed  only  to  shake  his  clothes  off,  and  jumped 
into  bed.  He  closed  his  eyes  and  appeared  to  be  in  a  pro- 
found slumber. 

Hannah's  sudden  appearance  in  the  sitting-room  in  such  a 
state  naturally  astonished  the  'Squire. 

*' What's  the  matter?"  he  demanded  of  the  affrighted 
servant. 

**0h,  sir,"  she  gasped,  "I'm  almost  kilt  entirely." 

*' Are  you?"  said  the  'Squire,  "you  appear  to  be  more 
frightened  than  hurt." 

**  Yes,  sir,  shure  I  am  frightened,  which  indeed  I  couldn't 
help  it,  sir,  for  I  never  saw  a  ghost  before  in  all  my  life." 

*'  A  ghost !     What  nonsense  are  you  talking,  Hannah.^ " 

"Shure  it's  not  nonsense,  for  it's  just  now  that  the  ghost 
came  to  the  door,  sir,  and  knocked,  and  I  went  to  the  door 
thinking  it  might  be  me  cousin,  who's  been  passing  the  even- 
ing with  me,  when  I  saw  a  great  white  ghost,  ten  foot  tall, 
standing  forninst  me." 

"  Ten  feet  tall  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  he  spread  out  his  arms  and  spoke  in  a  terrible 
voice,  and  was  going  to  carry  me  off  wid  him,  but  I  dropped 
the  lamp,  and  O  sir,  I  'm  kilt  entirely." 

"  This  is  a  strange  stor}',"  said  'Squire  Newcome,  rather 
suspiciously ;  "I  hope  you  have  not  been  drinking." 

Hannah  protested  vehemently  that  not  a  drop  of  liquor  had 
passed  her  lips,  which  was  true. 

**  I'll  go  out  and  hunt  for  the  ghost,"  said  the  'Squire. 


PAUL    PRESCOTT's    CHARGE.  181 

**  Oh,  don't,  sir.     He  '11  carry  you  off,"  said  Hannah,  terrified. 
**  Nonsense ! "  exclaimed  the  'Squire.     *'  Follow  me,  or  you 
mav  stay  here  if  you  are  frightened." 

This  Hannah  would  by  no  means  do,  since  the  'Squire  had 
taken  the  lamp  and  she  would  be  left  in  the  dark. 

Accordingly  she  followed  him  with  a  trembling  step,  as  he 
penetrated  through  the  kitchen  into  the  back  room,  ready  to 
run  at  the  least  alarm. 

The  back-door  was  wide  open,  but  nothing  was  to  be  seen  of 
the  ghost. 

*'  Perhaps  the  ghost's  up-stairs,"  said  Hannah,  **  I  can't  sleep 
up  there  this  night,  shure." 

But  something  had  attracted  Squire  Newcome's  attention.  It 
was  quite  muddy  out  of  doors,  and  Ben  had  tracked  in  consid- 
erable mud  with  him.  The  footprints  were  very  perceptible 
on  the  painted  floor. 

**  The  ghost  seems  to  have  had  muddy  shoes,"  said  the 
'Squire  dryly ;  '*  I  guess  I  can  find  him." 

He  followed  the  tracks  which  witnessed  so  strongly  against 
Ben,  to  whose  chamber  they  led. 

Ben,  though  still  awake,  appeared  to  be  in  a  profound 
slumber. 

•'  Ben-ja-min  ! "  said  his  father,  stooping  over  the  bed. 

There  was  no  answer. 

"Ben-ja-min!"  repeated  his  father,  giving  him  a  shake, 
**  what  does  all  this  mean  ?  " 

"What?"  inquired  Ben,  opening  his  eyes,  and  looking 
very  innocent. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  to-night?  " 

"  You  sent  me  to  bed,"  said  Ben,  "  and  I  came." 

But  the  Squire  was  not  to  be  deceived.  He  was  already  in 
possession  of  too  much  information  to  be  put  off.  So  Ben. 
who  with  all  his  love  of  mischief  was  a  boy  of  truth,  finally 
owned  up  everything.  His  father  said  very  little,  but  told 
him  the  next  morning  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  send 

16 


182  PAUL  prescott's   chaege. 

Lim  to  a  military  boarding-school,  where  the  discipline  was 
very  strict.  Ben  hardly  knew  whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry,  but 
finally,  as  boys  like  change  and  variety,  came  to  look  upon  hid 
new  prospects  with  considerable  cheerfulness. 


XXIX. 

DAWKINS   IN  DIFFICULTIES. 

George  Dawkens  was  standing  at  his  desk  one  morning, 
when  a  man  entered  the  office,  and  stepping  up  to  him,  un- 
ceremoniously tapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 

Dawkins  turned.  He  looked  extremely  annoyed  on  per- 
ceiving his  visitor,  whose  outward  appearance  was  certainly  far 
from  prepossessing.  His  face  exhibited  unmistakable  marks 
of  dissipation,  nor  did  the  huge  breast  pin  and  other  cheap 
finery  which  he  wore  conceal  the  fact  of  his  intense  vulgarity. 
His  eyes  were  black  and  twinkling,  his  complexion  very  dark, 
and  his  air  that  of  a  foreigner.  He  was,  in  fact,  a  Frenchman, 
though  his  language  would  hardly  have  betrayed  him,  unless, 
as  sometimes,  he  chose  to  interlard  his  discourse  with  French 
phrases. 

**How  are  you  this  morning,  my  friend?"  said  the  new 
comer. 

*'  What  are  you  here  for? "  asked  Dawkins,  roughly. 

**  That  does  not  seem  to  me  a  very  polite  way  of  receiving 
your  friends." 

**  Friends  ! "  retorted  Dawkins,  scornfully,  **  who  authorized 
you  to  call  yourself  ray  friend  ?  " 

*•  Creditor,  then,  if  it  will  suit  you  better,  mon  amiJ" 

**  Hush,"  said  Dawkins,  in  an  alarmed  whisper,  **  he  will 
hear,"  here  he  indicated  Paul  with  his  finger, 

*'  And  why  should  I  care  ?  I  have  no  secrets  from  the  young 
man." 


184  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

**  Stop,  Duval,"  exclaimed  Dawkirs,  in  an  angry  whisper, 
**  Leave  the  office  at  once.  Your  appearing  here  will  injure 
me." 

' '  But  I  am  not  your  friend ;  why  should  I  care  ?  "  sneered 
Duval. 

•'  Listen  to  reason.  Leave  me  now,  and  I  will  meet  you 
when  and  where  you  will." 

*'  Come,  that  sounds  better." 

** Now  go.     I'm  afraid  Mr.  Danforth  will  be  in." 

**If  he  comes,  introduce  me." 

Dawkins  would  like  to  have  knocked  the  fellow  over. 

*'  Name  your  place  and  time,  and  be  quick  about  it,"  said  he 
impatiently. 

' '  Eight  o'clock  this  evening,  you  know  where,"  was  the 
answer. 

**  Very  well.     Good  morning." 

"  Mind  you  bring  some  money." 

**  Good-morning,"  returned  Dajvkins,  angrily. 

At  length,  much  to  his  relief,  Duval  left  the  office.  Dawkina 
stole  a  side  glance  at  Paul,  to  see  what  impression  the  inter- 
view had  made  upon  him,  but  our  hero,  who  had  overheard 
some  portions  of  the  dialogue,  perceiving  that  Dawkins  wished 
it  to  be  private,  took  as  little  notice  of  the  visitor  as  possible. 
He  could  not  help  thinking,  however,  that  Duval  was  a  man 
whose  acquaintance  was  likely  to  be  of  little  benefit  to  his  fel- 
low clerk. 

Throughout  the  day  Dawkins  appeared  unusually  nervous, 
and  made  several  blunders  which  annoyed  Mr.  Danforth. 
Evidently  he  had  something  on  his  mind.  Not  to  keep  the 
reader  in  suspense,  George  had  falhjn  among  bad  companions, 
where  he  had  learned  both  to  drink  and  to  gamble.  In  this 
way  he  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  Duval,  an  unscrupulous 
sharper,  who  had  contrived  to  get  away  all  his  ready  money, 
and  persuading  him  to  play  longer  in  the  hope  of  making  up 
his  losses  had  run  him  into  debt  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 


PAUL    PRESCX)TT'S    CHARGE*  185 

Dawkins  gave  him  an  acknowledgment,  of  indebtedness  to  that 
amount.  This  of  course  placed  him  in  DuvaPs  power,  since  he 
knew  of  no  means  of  raising  such  a  sum.  He  therefore  kept 
out  of  the  Frenchman's  way,  avoiding  the  old  haunts  where  he 
would  have  been  likely  to  meet  him.  Dawkins  supposed  Duval 
ignorant  of  the  whereabouts  of  his  employer's  counting-room. 
So  he  had  been,  but  he  made  it  his  business  to  ascertain  where 
it  was.     He  had  no  idea  of  losing  sight  of  so  valuable  a  prize. 

Dawkins  would  willingly  have  broken  the  appointment  he 
had  made  with  Duval,  but  he  did  not  dare  to  do  so.  He  knew 
that  the  man  was  well  able  to  annoy  him,  and  he  would  not  on 
any  account  have  had  the  affair  disclosed  to  his  father  or  Mr. 
Dan  forth. 

As  Trinity  clock  struck  eight,  he  entered  a  low  bar-room  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  docks. 

A  young  man  with  paie,  sandy  hair  stood  behind  the  counter 
with  his  sleeves  rolled  up.  He  was  supplying  the  wants  of  a 
Bailor  who  already  appeared  to  have  taken  more  drink  than  was 
good  for  him. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Dawkins,"  said  he,  "you're  a 
stranger." 

*' Is  Duval  in?"  inquired  Dawkins,  coldly.  His  pride  re- 
volted at  the  place  and  company.  He  had  never  been  here 
but  once  before,  having  met  Duval  elsewhere. 

**  He  's  up  in  his  room.  John  show  the  young  gentleman 
up  to  No.  9.  Won't  you  have  a  glass  of  something  this 
evening  ?  " 

*'  Xo,"  said  Dawkins,  abruptly. 

The  boy  preceded  him  up  a  dark  and  dirt    Jtaircase. 

*  *  That 's  the  room,  sir,"  he  said. 

**  Stop  a  minute,"  said  Dawkins,  **  he  may  not  be  in." 

He  inwardly  hoped  he  might  not.     But  Duval  answered  his 
knock  by  coming  to  the  door  himself. 
.    **  Delighted  to  see  you,  mon  ami.    John,  you  may  leave  the 


186  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

lamp.  That 's  all,  unless  Mr.  Dawklns  wishes  to  order  some- 
thing." 

**I  want  nothing,"  said  Dawkins. 

*•  They  have  some  capital  brandy." 

•*  I  am  not  in  the  mood  for  drinking  to-night." 

•*As  you  please,"  said  the  Frenchman,  disappointed;  "be 
seated." 

Dawkins  sat  down  in  a  wooden  rocking-chair,  minus  an  arm. 

**Well,"  said  Duval,  **how  much  money  have  you  brought 
me.?" 

"  None." 

The  Frenchman  frowned  and  stroked  his  mustache,  fiercely. 

**  What  does  all  this  mean  ?  Are  you  going  to  put  me  off 
longer  ?  " 

*•  I  would  pay  it  if  I  could,"  said  Dawkins,  *'  but  I  have  n't 
got  the  money." 

*'  You  could  get  it." 

"IIow.P" 

**  Ask  your  father." 

*•  My  father  would  rave  if  he  knew  that  I  had  lost  money  in 
such  a  way." 

*'  But  you  need  not  tell  him." 

**  If  I  ask  for  money,  he  will  be  sure  to  ask  what  I  want  it  for." 

"Tell  him  you  want  clothes,  or  a  watch,  or  a  hundred 
things." 

Dawkins  shook  his  head;**  it  won't  do,"  said  he.  **He 
would  n't  give  me  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars." 

**  Then  ask  seventy-five,  and  I  will  wait  a  month  for  the 
rest." 

**  Look  here,  Duval,  you  have  no  rightful  claim  to  this 
money.  You've  got  enough  out  of  me.  Just  tear  up  the 
paper." 

Duval  laughed  scornfully,  **Aha,  JSIr.  Dawkins,"  he  said, 
**  that  would  be  a  very  pretty  arrangement  for  you.     But  I 


PAUL   PRESCOTT'S    CHARGE.  187 

don't  see  how  it  Is  going  to  benefit  me.  No,  no,  I  can't  afford 
to  throw  away  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  so  easily.  K I  was  a 
rich  man  like  your  father  it  would  make  a  difference." 

**  Then  you  won't  remit  the  debt,"  said  Dawkins,  sullenly. 

**  You  would  think  me  a  great  ninny,  if  I  did." 

**  Then  you  may  collect  it  the  best  way  you  can." 

*'What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  demanded  the  Frenchman, 
his  face  darkening. 

*'  I  mean  what  I  say,"  said  Dawkins,  desperately,  **  Gambling 
debts  are  not  recognizable  in  law." 

*'  Nothing  is  said  about  it 's  being  a  gambling  debt.  I  have 
your  note." 

* '  Which  is  worth  nothing,  since  I  am  a  minor." 

Duval's  face  became  black  with  rage. 

**  Aha,  my  friend,"  said  he  showing  his  teeth,  **  this  is  a  very 
nice  game  to  cheat  me  out  of  my  money.  But  it  won't  do,  it 
won't  do." 

*' Why  won't  It?" 

**  I  shall  say  a  word  In  your  father's  ear,  mon  ami^  and  in 
the  ear  of  your  worthy  employer  whom  you  were  so  anxious 
for  me  not  to  see,  and  perhaps  that  would  be  worse  for  you 
than  to  pay  me  my  money." 

Dawkins's  brief  exultation  passed  away.  He  saw  that  he 
was  indeed  in  the  power  of  an  unscrupulous  man.  who  was  dis- 
posed to  push  his  advantage  to  the  utmost. 

He  subsided  into  a  moody  silence,  which  Duval  watched  with 
satisfaction. 

*'  Well,  my  friend,  what  will  you  do  about  it?" 

*'  I  don't  know  what  I  can  do." 

**  You  will  think  of  something.  You  will  find  it  best,"  said 
the  Frenchman,  in  a  tone  which  veiled  a  threat. 

*'  I  will  try,"  said  Dawkins,  gloomily. 

"That  is  well.  I  thought  you  would  listen  to  reason,  mon 
ami.  Now  we  will  have  a  pleasant  chat.  Hold,  I  will  order 
gome  brandy  myself." 


188  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

*•  Not  for  me,"  said  Dawkins,  rising  from  his  chair,  '*  I  must 
be  going." 

"Will   you   not  have  one  little   game?"    asked   Duval, 
coaxingly, 

**  No,  no,  I  have  had  enough  of  that.     Good-night." 

*•  Then  you  won't  stop.     And  when  shall  I  have  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  you  at  my  little  apartment  once  more  ?  " 

"I  don't  know." 

'*  If  it  is  any  trouble  to  you  to  come,  I  will  call  at  your  office,** 
said  Duval,  significantly. 

*' Don't  trouble  yourself,"  said  Dawkins,  hastily;   •*  I  will 
come  here  a  week  from  to-day." 

**  A  week  is  a  long  time." 

**  Long  or  short,  I  must  have  it." 

*'  Very  well,  Tnon  ami.      A  week  let  it  be.     Good-night, 
Mind  the  stairs  as  you  go  down." 

Dawkins  breathed  more  jfreely  as  he  passed  out  into  the 
open  air.    He  was  beginning  to  realize  that  the  way  of  the 
transgressor  is  hard. 
\ 


XXX. 

A  TRAP   IS   LAID   FOR    PAUL. 

Three  months  before,  George  Dawkins  had  made  his  first 
visit  to  a  gambling  house.  At  first,  he  had  entered  only  from 
curiosity.  He  watched  the  play  with  an  interest  which  grad- 
ually deepened,  until  he  was  easily  persuaded  to  try  his  own 
luck.  The  stakes  were  small,  but  fortune  favored  him,  and  he 
came  out  some  dollars  richer  than  he  entered.  It  would  have 
been  fortunate  for  him  if  he  had  failed.  As  it  was,  his  good 
fortune  encouraged  him  to  another  visit.  This  time  he  was  less 
fortunate,  but  his  gains  about  balanced  his  losses,  so  that  he 
came  out  even.  On  the  next  occasion  he  lefl  oflf  with  empty 
pockets.  So  it  went  on  until  at  length  he  fell  into  the  hands 
of  Duval,  who  had  no  scruple  in  fleecing  him  to  as  great  an 
extent  as  he  could  be  induced  to  go. 

George  Dawkins's  reflections  were  not  of  the  most  cheerful 
character  as,  leaving  Duval,  he  slowly  pursued  his  way  home- 
ward. He  felt  that  he  had  fallen  into  the  power  of  an  unscru- 
pulous villain,  who  would  have  no  mercy  upon  him.  He  ex- 
ecrated his  own  folly,  without  which  all  the  machinations  of 
Duval  would  have  been  without  effect. 

The  question  now,  however,  was,  to  raise  the  money.  He 
knew  of  no  one  to  whom  he  could  apply  except  his  father,  nor 
did  he  have  much  hope  from  that  quarter.  Still,  he  would 
make  the  effort. 

Reaching  home  he  found  his  father  seated  in  the  library.  He 
looked  up  from  the  evening  paper  as  George  entered. 


190  PAUL  peescott's  charge. 

"  Only  half  past  nine,"  lie  said,  with  an  air  of  sarcasm. 
"  You  spend  your  evenings  out  so  systematically  that  your 
early  return  surprises  me.  How  is  it  .►*  Has  the  theatre  began 
tc  lose  its  charm ! " 

There  was  no  great  sympathy  between  father  and  son,  and  if 
either  felt  affection  for  the  other,  it  was  never  manifested. 
Mutual  recrimination  was  the  rule  between  them,  and  George 
would  now  have  made  an  angry  answer  but  that  he  had  a  favor 
to  ask,  and  felt  it  politic  to  be  conciliatory. 

*'  If  I  had  supposed  you  cared  for  my  society,  sir,  I  would 
have  remained  at  home  oftener." 

*'  Umph  ! "  was  the  only  reply  elicited  from  his  father. 

*•  However,  there  was  a  good  reason  for  my  not  going  to 
the  theatre  to-night." 

*♦  Indeed ! " 

**  I  had  no  money." 

**  Your  explanation  is  quite  satisfactory,"  said  his  father, 
with  a  slight  sneer.     **  I  sympathize  in  your  disappointment." 

**  There  is  no  occasion,  sir,"  said  George,  good  humoredly, 
for  him.     *'  I  had  no  great  desire  to  go." 

Dawkins  took  down  a  book  from  the  library  and  tried  to  read, 
but  without  much  success.  His  thoughts  continually  recurred  to 
his  pecuniary  embarrassments,  and  the  debt  which  he  owed  to 
Duval  seemed  to  hang  like  a  millstone  around  his  neck.  How 
should  he  approach  his  father  on  the  subject  ?  In  his  present 
humor  he  feared  he  would  have  little  chance. 

As  his  father  laid  down  the  newspaper  Dawkins  said, 
•*  Would  n't  you  like  a  game  of  checkers,  sir  ?  " 

This,  as  he  well  knew,  was  a  favorite  game  with  his  father. 

"  I  don't  know  but  I  should,"  said  JMr.  Dawkins,  more 
graciously  than  was  his  wont. 

The.  checker-board  was  brought,  and  the  two  commenced 
playing.  Three  games  were  played  all  of  which  his  father  won. 
This  appeared  to  put  him  in  a  good  humor,  for  as  the  two 
ceased  playing,  he  drew  a  ten  dollar  bill  from  his  pocket-book, 


PAUL  PRESCOTT's   CHAIIGE.  191 

and  handed  to  his  son,  with  the  remark,  **  There,  George,  I 
don't  want  you  to  be  penniless.  You  are  a  little  extravagant, 
though,  I  think.  Your  pay  from  Mr.  Danforth  ought  to  keep 
you  in  spending  money." 

'•  Yes,  sir,  I  have  been  rather  extravagant,  but  I  am  going 
to  reform." 

**  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it." 

**  I  wish,  sir,"  said  George  a  moment  afterwards,  **  that  you 
would  allow  me  to  buy  my  own  clothes." 

**  I  've  no  sort  of  an  objection,  I  am  sure.  You  select  them 
now,  don't  you  ?  " 

*•  Yea,  sir,  but  I  mean  to  suggest  that  you  should  make  me  an 
allowance  for  that  purpose,  —  about  as  much  as  it  costs  now,  — 
and  give  me  the  money  to  spend  where  I  please." 

Mr.  D-^wkins  looked  sharply  at  his  son. 

*'  The  result  would  probably  be,"  he  said,  **  that  the  money 
would  be  expended  in  other  ways,  and  I  should  have  to  pay 
for  the  clo-thes  twice  over." 

Dawkins  would  have  indignantly  disclaimed  this,  if  he  had 
not  felt  that  he  was  not  altogether  sincere  in  the  request  he 
had  niado. 

*'  No,"  continued  his  father,  "  I  don't  like  the  arrangement 
you  propose.  When  you  need  clothing  you  can  go  to  my 
tailor  and  order  it,  of  course  not  exceeding  reasonable  limits." 

•*  But,"  said  Dawkins,  desperately,  *'  I  don't  like  Bradshaw's 
style  of  making  clothes.  I  would  prefer  trying  some  other 
tailor." 

' '  What  fault  have  you  to  find  with  Bradshaw  ?  Is  he  not 
one  o^  the  most  fashionable  tailors  in  the  city  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  sir,  I  suppose  so,  but " — 

**  Come,  sir,  you  are  growing  altogether  too  particular.  All 
your  garments  set  well,  so  far  as  I  can  judge." 

**Yes,  sir,  but  one  likes  a  change  sometimes,"  persisted 
Greorfje,  a  little  embirrassed  for  further  objections. 


192  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

**  Well,"  said  Mr.  Dawklns,  after  a  pause,  "If  you  are  so 
strongly  bent  upon  a  new  tailor,  select  one,  anil  order  what  you 
need.     You  can  tell  him  to  send  in  his  bill  to  me." 

'*  Thank  you  sir,"  said  his  son,  by  no  means  pleased  at  the 
manner  in  which  his  request  had  been  granted.  He  saw  that 
it  would  in  no  manner  promote  the  plan  which  he  had  in  view, 
since  it  would  give  him  no  command  of  the  ready  money.  It 
is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  his  alleged  dissatisfaction  with 
his  father's  tailor  had  all  been  trumped  up  for  the  occasion,  and 
would  never  have  been  thought  of  but  for  the  present  emergency. 

"  What  shall  I  do !  "  thought  Dawkins,  in  perplexity,  as  he 
slowly  undressed  himself  and  retired  to  bed. 

The  only  true  course,  undoubtedly,  was  to  confess  all  to  his 
father,  to  incur  the  storm  of  reproaches  which  would  have  fol- 
lowed as  the  just  penalty  of  his  transgression,  and  then  the 
haunting  fear  of  discovery  would  have  been  once  and  forever 
removed.  But  Dawkins  was  not  brave  enough  for  this.  He 
thought  only  of  escaping  from  his  present  difficulty  without  hia 
father's  knowledge. 

He  rose  the  next  morning  with  the  burden  of  care  still  weigh- 
ing upon  him.  In  the  evening*the  thought  occurred  to  him  that 
he  might  retrieve  his  losses  where  he  had  incurred  them,  and 
again  he  bent  his  steps  to  the  gambling  house.  He  risked 
five  dollars,  being  one  half  of  what  he  had.  This  was  lost. 
Desperately  he  hazarded  the  remaining  five  dollars,  and  lost 
again. 

With  a  muttered  oath  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  left  the 
brilliant  room,  more  gloomy  and  discouraged  than  ever.  He 
was  as  badly  off  as  before,  and  penniless  beside.  He  would 
have  finished  the  evening  at  the  theatre,  but  his  recent  loss 
prevented  that.  He  lounged  about  the  streets  till  it  was  time 
to  go  to  bed,  and  then  went  home  in  a  very  unsatisfactory  state 
of  mind. 

A  day  or  two  after,  he  met  on  Broadway  the  man  whom  of 
all  others  he  would  gladly  have  avoided. 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  193 

**  Alia,  my  friend,  I  am  glad  to  meet  you,"  said  Duval,  for  it 
was  he. 

Dawkins  muttered  something  unintelligible,  and  would  have 
hurried  on,  but  Duval  detained  him. 

**  Why  are  you  in  such  a  hurry,  my  friend  ?  "  he  said. 

**  Business,"  returned  Dawkins,  shortly. 

**  That  reminds  me  of  the  little  business  affair  between  us, 
mon  ami.     Have  you  got  any  money  for  me  ?  " 

*' Not  yet." 

"Not  yet!  It  is  three  days  since  we  saw  each  other. 
Could  you  not  do  something  in  three  days  ?  " 

*'Itold  you  I  required  a  week,"  said  Dawkins,  roughly, 
♦*  Let  go  my  arm.     I  tell  you  I  am  in  haste." 

*'  Very  well,  mon  ami,''''  said  Duval,  slowly  relinquishing  his 
hold,  "  take  care  that  you  do  not  forget.  There  are  four  days 
more  to  the  week." 

Dawkins  hurried  on  feeling  very  uncomfortable.  He  was 
quite  aware  that  four  days  hence  he  would  be  as  unprepared  to 
encounter  the  Frenchman  as  now.  Still,  something  might 
happen. 

Something,  unfortunately,  did  happen. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Danforth  was  counting  a  roll  of  bills 
which  had  been  just  paid  in,  when  he  was  unexpectedly  called 
out  of  the  counting-room.  He  unguardedly  left  the  bills  upon 
his  own  desk.  Dawkins  saw  them  lying  there.  The  thought 
flashed  upon  him,  *'  There  lies  what  will  relieve  me  from  all 
my  embarrassment." 

Allowing  himself  scarcely  a  minute  to  think,  he  took  from 
the  roll  four  fifty  dollar  notes,  thrust  one  into  the  pocket  of 
Paul's  overcoat,  which  hung  up  in  the  office,  drew  off  his  right 
boot  and  slipped  the  other  three  into  the  bottom  of  it,  and 
put  it  on  again.  He  then  nervously  resumed  his  place  at  his 
desk.  A  moment  afterwards,  Paul,  who  had  been  to  the  post- 
office,  entered  with  letters  which  he  carried  into  the  inner  office 
17 


194  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

and  deposited  on  Mr.  Danforth's  desk.  He  observed  the  roll 
of  bills,  and  thought  his  employer  careless  in  leaving  so  much 
money  exposed,  but  said  nothing  on  the  subject  to  Dawkins, 
between  whom  and  himself  there  was  little  conmiunication. 


XXXI. 

CONVICTED  OF  THEFT. 

Half  an  hour  later  Mr.  Danforth  returned. 

•*  Has  any  one  been  here?  "  he  asked  as  he  passed  through 
the  outer  office. 

"No,  sir,"  said  Dawkins,  with  outward  composure,  though 
his  heart  was  beating  rapidly. 

While  apparently  intent  upon  his  wi'iting  he  listened  atten- 
tively to  what  might  be  going  on  in  the  next  room.  One,  — 
two,  —  three  minutes  passed.  Mr.  Danforth  again  showed 
himself. 

" Did  you  say  that  no  one  has  been  here?  "  he  demanded, 
abruptly. 

"  No  sh-." 

•*  Have  either  of  you  been  into  my  office  since  I  have  been 
out?" 

**  I  have  not,  sir,"  said  Dawkins. 

**  I  went  in  to  carry  your  letters,"  said  Paul. 

•*  Did  you  see  a  roll  of  bills  lying  on  my  desk  ?  " 

•*  Yes  sir,"  said  Paul,  a  little  surprised  at  the  question. 

**  I  have  just  counted  it  over,  and  find  but  six  hundred  dollars 
instead  of  eight  hundred.  Can  you  account  for  the  dis- 
crepancy ?  " 

Mr.  Danforth  looked  keenly  at  the  two  boys.  Dawkins, 
who  had  schooled  himself  to  the  ordeal,  maintained  his  out- 
ward calmness.  Paul,  beginning  to  perceive  that  his  honesty 
was  called  in  question,  flushed. 


195  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

"No,  sir,"  said  the  boys  simultaneously. 

**  It  can  hardly  be  possible,  that  Mr.  Thompson,  who  is  a  "very 
careful  man,  should  have  made  such  a  mistake  in  paying  me,*^ 
resumed  Mr.  Danforth. 

*•  As  we  have  been  the  only  persons  here,"  said  Dawkins, 
**  the  only  way  to  vindicate  ourselves  from  suspicion  is,  to 
submit  to  a  search." 

*•  Yes  sir,"  said  Paul,  promptly. 

Both  boys  turned  their  pockets  inside  out,  but  the  missing 
money  was  not  found. 

*'  There  is  my  overcoat,  sir,"  said  Dawkins,  '*  will  you  be  kind 
enough  to  search  it  for  yourself?  '* 

Next,  of  course,  Paul's  overcoat  was  searched. 

What  was  our  hero's  dismay  when  from  one  of  the  pockets 
Mr.  Danforth  produced  a  fifty  dollar  bill. 

**  Is  it  possible  ?  "  he  exclaimed  in  as  much  grief  as  surprise, 
**  Unhappy  boy,  how  came  you  by  this  money  in  your 
pocket  ?  " 

♦•I  don't  know  sir,"  returned  Paul,  his  cheek  alternately 
flushing  and  growing  pale. 

**  I  wish  I  could  believe  you,"  said  Mr.  Danforth ;  "  where 
have  you  put  the  other  bills  ?  Produce  them,  and  I  may  over- 
look this  first  offence." 

*'  Indeed,  sir,"  said  Paul,  in  great  distress,  **  I  have  not  the 
slightest  knowledge  of  how  this  bill  came  into  my  pocket.  I 
hope  you  wUl  believe  me,  sir." 

"How  can  I?  The  money  evidently  did  not  go  into  your 
pocket  without  hands." 

A  sudden  thought  came  to  Paul.  *•  Dawkins,"  said  he,  **  did 
you  put  that  money  into  my  pocket  ?  " 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?"  returned  Dawkins,  haughtily. 
"  Is  it  your  intention  to  insult  me  ?  " 

Dawkins  could  not  prevent  his  face  from  flushing  as  he 
Bpoke,  but  this  might  easily  be  referred  to  a  natural  resentment 
of  the  imputation  cast  upon  him. 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  197 

"Paul,"  said  his  employer,  coldly,  "you  will  not  help  your 
own  cause  by  seeking  to  involve  another.  After  what  has  hap- 
pened you  can  hardly  expect  me  to  retain  you  in  my  employ- 
ment. I  will  not  make  public  your  disgrace,  nor  will  I  inquire 
farther  for  the  remainder  of  the  money  for  which  you  have  been 
willing  to  barter  your  integrity.  I  will  pay  your  wages  up  to 
the  end  of  this  week,  and"  — 

"  Mr.  Danforth,"  said  Paul,  manfully,  though  the  tears  al- 
most choked  his  utterance,  '*  I  am  sorry  that  you  have  no  bet- 
ter opinion  of  me.  I  do  not  want  the  balance  of  my  wages. 
If  I  have  taken  so  large  a  sum  which  did  not  belong  to  me,  I 
have  no  claim  to  them.  Good-morning,  sir.  Some  time  I  hope 
you  will  think  better  of  me." 

Paul  put  on  his  coat,  and  taking  his  cap  from  the  nail  on 
which  it  hung,  bowed  respectfully  to  his  employer  and  left  the 
office. 

Mr.  Danforth  looked  after  him,  and  seemed  perplexed. 
Could  Paul  be  guilty  after  all  ? 

**  I  never  could  have  suspected  him  if  I  had  not  this  evidence 
\n  my  hand,"  said  Mr.  Danforth,  to  himself,  fixing  his  eyes 
upon  the  bill  which  he  had  drawn  from  Paul's  overcoat. 

**  Dawkins,  did  you  observe  whether  Paul  remained  long  in 
the  office  ?  "  he  asked,  *'  Longer  than  sufficient  to  lay  the  let- 
ters on  the  desk  ?  " 

'♦  Yes,  sir,  I  think  he  did." 
I     **  Did  you  notice  whether  he  went  to  his  overcoat  after 
coming  out  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  he  did,"  said  Dawkins,  anxious  to  fix  in  Mr. 
Danforth's  mind  the  impression  of  Paul's  guilt. 

"Then  I  am  afraid  it  is  true,"  said  his  employer  sadly. 
"  And  yet,  what  a  fine,  manly  boy  he  is  too.  But  it  is  a 
terrible  fault." 

Mr.  Danforth  was  essentially  a  kind-hearted  man,  and  he  cared 
much  more  for  Paul's  dereliction  from  honesty  than  for  the  losg 
of  the  money.     Going  home  early  to  dinner,  he  communicated 
17* 


lyS  PAUL  PKESCOTT's   CHARGE. 

to  his  wife  the  unpleasant  discovery  whicli  he  had  made  re- 
specting Paul. 

Now,  from  the  first,  Paul  had  been  a  great  favorite  with  Mrs, 
Danforth,  and  she  scouted  at  the  idea  of  his  dishonesty. 

**  Depend  upon  it,  Mr.  Danforth,"  she  said  decisively,  "you 
have  done  the  boy  an  injustice.  I  have  some  skill  in  reading 
faces,  and  I  tell  you  that  a  boy  with  Paul  Pi'escott's  open, 
frank  expression  is  incapable  of  such  a  crime." 

**  So  I  should  have  said,  my  dear,  but  we  men  learn  to  be 
less  trustful  than  you  ladies,  who  stay  at  home  and  take  rose- 
colored  views  of  life.  Unfortunately,  we  see  too  much  of  the 
dark  side  of  human  nature. " 

**  So  that  you  conclude  all  to  be  dark.** 

**  Not  so  bad  as  that." 

**  Tell  me  all  the  circumstances,  and  perhaps  a  woman's  wit 
may  help  you." 

Mr.  Danforth  communicated  all  the  details,  with  which  the 
reader  is  already  familiar. 

*•  What  sort  of  a  boy  is  this  Dawkins  ?  "  she  asked,  **  Do  you 
like  him  ?  " 

**  Not  particularly.  He  does  his  duties  passably  well.  I 
took  him  into  my  counting-room  to  oblige  his  father.'* 

**  Perhaps  he  is  the  thief." 

**  To  tell  the  truth  I  would  sooner  have  suspected  him  ^ 

**  Has  he  cleared  himself  from  suspicion  ?  " 

**  He  was  the  first  to  suggest  a  search." 

"Precisely  the  thing  he  would  have  done,  if  he  had  placed 
the  bill  in  Paul's  pocket.  Of  course  he  would  know  that  the 
search  must  result  favorably  for  him." 

"There  is  something  in  that." 

"Besides,  what  could  have  been  more  foolish,  if  Paul  wished 
to  hide  the  money,  than  to  multiply  his  chances  of  detection  by 
hiding  it  in  two  different  places,  especially  where  one  was  so 
obvious  as  to  aflford  no  concealment  at  all." 

"  Admitting  this  to  be  true,  how  am  I  to  arrive  at  the  proof 
of  Paul's  innocence  ?  " 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  199 

"  My  own  opinion  is,  that  George  Dawklns  has  the  greater 
part  of  the  money  stolen.  Probably  he  has  taken  it  for  some 
particular  purpose.  What  it  is,  you  may  learn,  perhaps,  by 
watching  him." 

**I  will  be  guided  by  your  suggestions.  Nothing  would 
afford  me  greater  pleasure  than  to  find  that  I  have  been  mis- 
taken in  assuming  Paul's  guilt,  though  on  evidence  that  seemed 
convincing." 

This  conversation  took  place  at  the  dinner-table.  Mr.  Dan- 
forth  understood  that  no  time  was  to  be  lost  if  he  expected  to 
gain  any  information  from  the  movements  of  his  clerk. 

George  Dawkins  had  ventured  upon  a  bold  act,  but  he  had 
been  apparently  favored  by  fortune,  and  had  succeeded.  That 
he  should  have  committed  this  crime  without  compunction 
could  hardly  be  expected.  His  uneasiness,  however,  sprang 
cliiefly  from  the  fear  that  in  some  way  he  might  yet  be  detected. 
He  resolved  to  get  rid  of  the  money  which  he  had  obtained  dis- 
honestly, and  obtain  back  from  Duval  the  acknowledgment 
of  indebtedness  which  he  had  given  him. 

You  will  perhaps  ask  whether  the  wrong  which  he  had  done 
Paul  affected  him  with  uneasiness.  On  the  contrary,  it  grati- 
fied the  dislike  which  from  the  first  he  had  cherished  towards 
our  hero. 

*♦  I  am  well  rid  of  him,  at  all  events,"  he  muttered  to  himself, 
*•  that  is  worth  risking  something  for." 

When  office  hours  were  over  Dawkins  gladly  threw  down  his 
pen,  and  left  the  counting-room. 

He  bent  his  steps  rapidly  towards  the  locality  where  he  had 
before  met  Duval.  He  had  decided  to  wait  some  time  before 
meeting  that  worthy.  He  had  to  wait  till  another  day, 
when  as  he  was  emerging  from  the  tavern  he  encountered  the 
Frenchman  on  the  threshold. 

*'  Aha,  my  good  friend,"  said  Duval,  offering  his  hand, 
which  Dawkins  did  not  appear  to  see,  **  I  am  very  glad  to  see 
you.    Will  you  come  in  ?  " 


200  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

"No,  I  have  not  time,  said  Dawkins,  shortly. 

**  Have  you  brought  me  my  money  ?  " 

«*Yes." 

**  Aha,  that  is  well.  I  was  just  about  what  you  call  cleaned 
out." 

**  Have  you  my  note  with  you  ?  " 

Duval  fumbled  in  his  pocket-book,  and  finally  produced  the 
desired  document. 

**  Give  it  to  me." 

*♦  I  must  have  the  money  first,"  said  the  Frenchman,  shrewdly. 

**  Take  it,"  said  Dawkins  contemptuously.  **  Do  you  judge 
me  by  yourself  ?  " 

He  tore  the  note  which  he  received  into  small  pieces,  and 
left  Duval  without  another  word. 

Sheltered  by  the  darkness,  Mr.  Danforth,  who  had  tracked 
the  steps  of  Dawkins,  had  been  an  unseen  witness  of  this  whole 
transaction. 


xxxn. 

RIGHT  TRIUMPHANT. 

George  Dawkins  resumed  his  duties  the  next  morning  as 
^avLa\.  Notwithstanding  the  crime  he  had  committed  to  screen 
himself  from  the  consequences  of  a  lighter  fault,  he  felt  im- 
measurably relieved  at  the  thought  that  he  had  shaken  himself 
free  from  the  clutches  of  Duval.  His  satisfaction  was  heightened 
by  the  disgrace  and  summary  dismissal  of  Paul,  whom  he  had 
never  liked.  He  decided  to  ask  the  place  for  a  cousin  of  his 
own,  whose  society  would  be  more  agreeable  to  him  than  that 
of  his  late  associate. 

*'  Good-morning,  sir,"  he  said,  as  Mr.  Danforth  entered. 

"  Good-morning,"  returned  his  employer,  coldly. 

**  Have  you  selected  any  one  in  Prescott's  place,  yet,  sir?  " 

**  Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

**  Because  I  have  a  cousin,  Malcolm  Harcourt,  who  would  be 
glad  to  take  it." 

** Indeed!"  said  Mr.  Danforth,  whose  manner  somewhat 
puzzled  Dawkins. 

**I  should  enjoy  having  him  with  me,"  continued  Dawkins. 

"Did  you  like  Prescott  ?  " 

**No  sir,"  said  Dawkins,  promptly,  **  I  didn't  want  to  say 
BO  before,  but  now,  since  he's  turned  out  so  badly,  I  don't  mind 
saying  that  I  never  thought  much  of  him." 

**  On  the  contrary,"  said  Mr.  Danforth,  *•  I  liked  him  from 
the  first.  Perhaps  we  are  wrong  in  thinking  that  he  took 
the  money.'* 


202  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

**I  should  think  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  it,"  sfud  Daw- 
kins,  not  liking  the  sympathy  and  returning  good  feeling  for 
Paul  which  his  employer  manifested. 

**I  don't  agree  with  you,"  said  Mr.  Danforth,  coldly.  **I 
have  decided  to  reinstate  Paul  in  his  former  place." 

*•  Then,  if  any  more  money  is  missing,  you  will  know  where 
it  has  gone,"  said  Dawkins,  tastily. 

"  I  shaU." 

**  Then  there  is  no  chance  for  my  cousin? " 

**  I  am  expecting  to  have  a  vacancy." 

Dawkins  looked  up  in  surprise. 

**  I  shall  require  some  one  to  fill  your  place,"  said  Mr.  Dan* 
forth,  significantly. 

**  Sir ! "  exclaimed  Dawkins,  in  astonishment  and  dismay. 

His  employer  bent  a  searching  glance  upon  him  as  he  asked, 
sternly,  "where  did  you  obtain  the  money  which  you  paid 
away  last  evening  ?  " 

*  ♦  I  —  don't  —  understand  —  you,  sir,"  gasped  Dawkins,  who 
understood  only  too  well. 

*'  You  met  a  man  at  the  door  of  a  low  tavern  in  — Street, 
last  evening,  to  whom  you  paid  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars, 
precisely  the  sura  which  I  lost  yesterday." 

**  Who  has  been  slandering  me,  sir.^*"  asked  Dawkins,  very 
pale. 

**  An  eye-witness  of  the  meeting,  who  heard  the  conversa- 
tion between  you.  If  you  want  more  satisfactory  proof,  here 
it  is." 

Mr.  Danforth  took  from  his  pocket-book  the  torn  fragments 
of  the  note  which  Dawkins  had  given  to  Duval. 

**  Here  is  an  obligation  to  pay  a  certain  Duval  the  sum  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  It  bears  your  signature.  How 
you  could  have  Incurred  such  a  debt  to  him  you  best  know ." 

Dawkins  maintained  a  sullen  silence. 

**  I  suppose  you  wish  me  to  leave  your  employment,"  he  said 
at  leniith. 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S  CHARGE.  203 

"  You  are  right.  Hold,"  he  added,  as  Dawkln*  was  about 
leaving  the  room,  •*  a  word  more.  It  is  only  just  that  you 
should  make  a  restitution  of  the  sum  which  you  have  taken. 
If  you  belonged  to  a  poor  family  and  there  were  extenuating  cir- 
cumstances, I  might  forego  my  claim.  But  your  father  is  abun- 
dantly able  to  make  good  the  loss,  and  I  shall  require  you  to 
lay  the  matter  before  him  without  loss  of  time.  In  considera- 
tion of  your  youth,  I  shall  not  bring  the  matter  before  the 
public  tribunals,  as  I  have  a  right  to  do." 

Dawkins  turned  pale  at  this  allusion,  and  muttering  some 
words  to  the  effect  that  he  would  do  what  he  could,  left  the 
counting-room. 

This  threat  proved  not  to  be  without  Its  effect.  The  next 
day  he  came  to  Mr.  Danforth  and  brought  the  sum  for  which 
he  had  become  responsible.  He  had  represented  to  his 
father  that  he  had  had  his  pocket  picked  of  this  sum  belonging 
to  i\Ir.  Danforth,  and  in  that  manner  obtained  an  equal  amount 
to  replace  it.  It  was  some  time  before  Mr.  Dawkins  learned  the 
truth.  Then  came  a  storm  of  reproaches  in  which  all  the  bit- 
terness of  his  father's  nature  was  fully  exhibited.  There  had 
never  been  much  love  between  father  and  son.  Henceforth 
there  was  open  hatred. 

We  must  return  to  Paul,  whom  we  left  in  much  trouble. 

It  was  a  sad  walk  which  he  took  homeward  on  the  morning 
of  his  dismissal. 

"What  brings  you  home  so  early?"  asked  Mrs.  Cameron, 
looking  up  from  her  baking,  as  Paul  entered. 

Paul  tried  to  explain,  but  tears  came  to  his  eyes,  and  sobs 
choked  his  utterance. 

**  Are  you  sick,  Paul  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Cameron,  in  alarm. 

"  No,  Aunt  Hester." 

**  Then  what  is  the  matter  ?  "  she  asked  anxiously. 

**  I  have  lost  my  place." 

•*  Poor  boy !  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  it.  But  it  might  have 
becD  worse." 


204  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

"  No,  not  very  well,  Aunt  Hester,  for  Mr.  Danforth  thinks 
I  have  taken  some  of  his  money." 

*'  He  is  very  unjust !  "  exclaimed  Aunt  Hester,  indignantly, 
**he  ought  to  have  known  better  than  to  think  you  would 
steal." 

**  Why,  no,"  said  Paul,  candidly,  **  I  must  confess  the  evi- 
dence was  against  me,  and  he  does  n't  know  me  as  well  as  you 
do.  Aunt  Hester." 

♦♦  Tell  me  all  about  it,  Paul." 

Aunt  Hester  sat  down  and  listened  attentively  to  our  hero's 
story. 

**  How  do  you  account  for  the  money  being  found  in  your 
pocket  ?  "  she  asked  at  length. 

**  I  think  it  must  have  been  put  there  by  some  one  else." 

**  Have  you  any  suspicions  ?  " 

**  Yes,"  said  Paul,  a  little  reluctantly,  **but  I  don't  know 
whether  I  ought  to  have.  I  may  be  wronging  an  innocent 
person." 

**  At  any  rate  it  won't  do  any  harm  to  tell  me." 

*•  You  've  heard  me  speak  of  George  Dawkins  ?  " 

«♦  Yes." 

**  I  can't  help  thinking  that  he  put  the  fifty  dollars  into  my 
pocket,  and  took  the  rest  himself." 

*'How  very  wicked  he  must  be !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Cameron, 
indignantly. 

•*  Don't  judge  him  too  hastily;  Aunt  Hester,  he  may  not  be 
guilty,  and  I  know  from  my  own  experience  how  hard  it  is  to 
be  accused  when  you  are  innocent." 

Soon  after  the  sexton  came  in,  and  Paul  of  course,  told  his 
story  over  again. 

**  Never  mind,  Paul,"  said  Uncle  Hugh,  cheerily.  **  You 
know  your  own  innocence ;  that  is  the  main  thing.  It's  a  great 
thing  to  have  a  clear  conscience." 

**  But  I  liked  Mr.  Danforth  and  I  think  he  liked  me.  It 's 
hard  to  feel  that  he  and  Mrs.  Danforth  will  both  think  me 


PAUL  PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  205 

guilty,  especially  after  the  kindness  which  I  have  experienced 
from  them." 

•*  We  all  have  our  crosses,  my  boy,  —  some  h'ght  and  others 
heavy.  Yours,  I  admit  is  a  heavy  one  for  a  boy  to  bear. 
But  when  men  are  unjust  there  is  One  above  who  will  deal 
justly  with  us.     You  have  not  forgotten  him." 

"  No,  uncle  Hugh,"  said  Paul,  reverently. 
**  Trust  in  him,  Paul,  and  all  will  come  out  right  at  last. 
He  can  prove  your  innocence,  and  you  may  be  sure  he  will,  in 
his  own  good  time.     Only  be  patient,  Paul." 
"  I  will  try  to  be.  Uncle  Hugh." 

The  simple,  hearty  trust  in  God,  which  the  sexton  manifested, 
was  not  lost  upon  Paul.  Sustained  by  his  own  consciousness 
of  innocence,  and  the  confidence  reposed  in  him  by  those  who 
knew  him  best,  his  mind  soon  regained  its  cheerful  tone.  He 
felt  an  inward  conviction  that  God  would  vindicate  his  inno> 
cence. 

His  vindication  came  sooner  than  he  anticipated. 

The  next  day  as  the  sexton's  family  were  seated  at  their 
plain  dinner,  a  knock  was  heard  upon  the  outer  door. 

*•  Sit  still,  Hester,"  said  Mr.  Cameron.  **I  will  go  to  the 
door." 

Opening  the  door  he  recognized  Mr.  Danforth,  who  attended 
the  same  church. 

**  Mr.  Cameron,  I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Danforth,  pleasantly. 

**  Yes,  sir." 

"  May  I  come  in?    I  am  here  on  a  little  business." 

**  Certainly,  Mr.  Danforth.  Excuse  my  not  inviting  you  be- 
fore ;  but  in  my  surprise  at  seeing  you,  I  forgot  my  polite- 
ness." 

The  sexton  led  the  way  into  the  plain  sitting-room. 

"  I  believe  Paul  Prescott  is  an  inmate  of  your  family." 

"Yes,  sir.     I  am  sorry  —  " 

**  I  know  what  you  would  say,  sir ;  but  it  is  needless.  May 
I  see  Paul  a  moment  ?  " 

18 


206  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

Paul  was  surprised  at  the  summons,  and  still  more  surprised 
at  finding  who  it  was  that  wished  to  see  him. 

He  entered  the  room  slowly,  uncertain  how  to  accost  Mr. 
Danforth.  His  employer  solved  the  doubt  in  his  mind  by  ad- 
vancing cordially,  and  taking  his  hand. 

**Paul,"  he  said  pleasantly,  **  I  have  come  here  to  ask  your 
forgiveness  for  an  injustice,  and  to  beg  you  to  resume  your 
place  in  my  counting-room." 

"Have  you  found  out  who  took  the  money,  sir?"  asked 
Paul,  eagerly. 

"Yes." 

*♦  Who  was  it,  sir?"  , 

**  It  was  Dawkins." 

Mr.  Danforth  explained  how  he  had  become  acquainted  with 
the  real  thief.  In  conclusion,  he  said,  **  I  shall  expect  you 
back  to-morrow  morning,  Paul." 

*♦  Thank  you,  sir." 

•*  Dawkins  of  course  leaves  my  employ.  You  will  take  his 
place,  and  receive  his  salary,  seven  dollars  a  week  instead  of 
five.  Have  you  any  friend  whom  you  would  like  to  have  in 
your  own  place  ?  " 

Paul  reflected  a  moment  and  finally  named  a  schoolmate  of 
his,  the  son  of  poor  parents,  whom  he  knew  to  be  anxiously 
seeking  a  situation,  but  without  influential  friends  to  help 
him. 

**  I  will  take  him  on  your  recommendation,"  said  Mr.  Dan- 
forth, promptly.     *'  Can  you  see  him  this  afternoon?  " 

**  Yes,  sir,"  said  Paul. 

The  next  day  Paul  resumed  his  place  in  Mr.  Dauforth'a 
counting-room. 


xxxin. 

PAUL  REDEEMS   HIS   PLEDGE. 

'two  years  passed,  unmarked  by  any  Incident  of  importance, 
Paul  continued  in  Mr.  Danforth's  employment,  giving,  if  pos- 
sible, increased  satisfaction.  He  was  not  only  faithful,  but  ex- 
hibited a  rare  aptitude  for  business,  which  made  his  services  of 
great  value  to  his  employer.  From  time  to  time  Mr.  Danforth 
iik3reased  his  salary,  so  that,  though  only  nineteen,  he  was  now 
receiving  twelve  dollars  per  week,  with  the  prospect  of  a  speedy 
increase.  But  with  his  increasing  salary,  he  did  not  increase 
his  expenses.  He  continued  as  economical  as  ever.  He  had 
not  forgotten  his  father's  dying  injunction.  He  remained  true 
to  the  charge  which  he  had  taken  upon  himself,  that  of  redeem- 
ing his  father's  memory  from  reproach.  This,  at  times  subject- 
ed him  to  the  imputation  of  meanness,  but  for  this  he  cared 
little.  He  would  not  swerve  from  the  line  of  duty  which  he 
had  marked  out. 

One  evening  as  he  was  walking  down  Broadway  with  an  ac- 
quaintance, Edward  Hastings,  who  was  employed  in  a  counting- 
room  near  him,  they  paused  before  a  transparency  in  front  of 
a  hall  brilliantly  lighted. 

*•  The  Hutchinsons  are  going  to  sing  to-night,  Paul,"  said 
Hastings.     **  Did  you  ever  hear  them  ?  '* 

**  No ;  but  I  have  often  wished  to.'* 

**  Then  suppose  we  go  in." 

*•  No,  I  believe  not." 

**  Why  not,  Paul  ?  It  seems  to  me  you  never  go  anywhere. 
You  ought  to  amuse  yourself  now  and  then.'* 


208  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

**  Some  other  time  I  will,  — not  now." 

**  You  are  not  required  to  be  at  home  in  the  evening,  are 
you  ?  " 

*'  No." 

**  Then  why  not  come  in  now?  It 's  only  twenty-five  cents." 

•*  To  tell  the  truth,  Ned,  I  am  saving  up  my  money  for  a 
particular  purpose  ;  and  until  that  is  accomplished,  I  avoid  all 
unnecessary  expense." 

"  Gomg  to  invest  in  a  house  in  Fifth  Avenue  ?  When  you 
do,  I'll  call.  However,  never  mind  the  expense.  I'll  pay 
you  in." 

*•  I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  Ned,  but  I  can't  accept." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  at  present  I  can't  afford  to  return  the  favor." 

**  Never  mind  that." 

**  But  I  do  mind  it.  By-and-by  I  shall  feel  more  free.  Good* 
night,  if  you  are  going  in." 

♦♦Goodnight,  Paul." 

♦♦He's  a  strange  fellow,"  mused  Hastings.  ♦♦It's  impossi- 
ble to  think  him  mean,  and  yet,  it  looks  a  great  deal  like  it. 
He  spends  nothing  for  dress  or  amusements.  I  do  behcve  that 
I  've  had  three  coats  since  he 's  been  wearing  that  old  brown 
one.  Yet,  he  always  looks  neat.  I  wonder  what  he 's  saving 
up  his  money  for." 

Meanwhile  Paul  went  home. 

The  sexton  and  his  wife  looked  the  same  as  ever.  Paul 
sometimes  fancied  that  Uncle  Hugh  stooped  a  little  more  than 
he  used  to  do  ;  but  his  life  movod  on  so  placidly  and  evenly, 
that  he  grew  old  but  slowly.  Aunt  Hester  was  the  same  good, 
kind,  benevolent  friend  that  she  had  always  been.  No  mother 
could  have  been  more  devoted  to  Paul.  He  felt  that  he  had 
much  to  be  grateful  for,  In  his  chance  meeting  with  this  worthy 
couple. 

It  was  the  first  of  January,  —  a  clear,  cold  day.  A.  pleasant 
fire  burned  in  the  little  stove.     Mr.  Cameron  sat  at  one  side. 


PAUL  PRESCOTT*S   CHARGE.  209 

reading  the  evening  paper;  Mrs.  Cameron  at  the  other,  knit- 
ting a  stocking  for  Paul.  A  large,  comfortable-looking  cat 
■was  dozing  tranquilly  on  the  hearth-rug.  Paul,  who  had  been 
seated  at  the  table,  rose  and  lighted  a  candle. 

*'  Where  are  you  going,  Paul  ?  "  asked  Aunt  Hester. 

**  Up-stairs  for  a  moment." 

Paul  speedily  returned,  bearing  in  his  hand  a  small  blue 
bank-book,  with  his  name  on  the  cover. 

He  took  out  his  pencil  and  figured  a  few  minutes. 

**  Uncle  Hugh,"  said  he,  looking  up,  **  when  I  get  a  hundred 
dollars  more,  I  shall  have  enough  to  pay  father's  debt." 

*'  Principal  and  interest  ?  " 

"Yes,  principal  and  interest;  reckoning  the  interest  for  a 
year  to  come." 

**  I  did  not  suppose  you  had  so  much  money,  Paul.  You 
must  have  been  very  economical." 

**Yes,  Uncle  Hugh,  more  so  than  I  have  wanted  to  be^ 
oftentimes ;  but  whenever  I  have  been  tempted  to  spend  a  cent 
unnecessarily,  I  have  always  called  to  mind  my  promise  made 
to  father  on  his  deathbed,  and  I  have  denied  myself." 

**You  have  done  well,  Paul.  There  are  few  who  would 
have  had  the  resolution  to  do  as  you  have." 

**  O  yes.  Uncle  Hugh,"  said  Paul,  modestly,  **  I  think  there 
are  a  great  many.  I  begin  to  feel  repaid  already.  In  a  few 
months  I  shall  be  able  to  pay  up  the  whole  debt." 

At  this  moment  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door.  Mr.  Came- 
ron answered  the  summons. 

**  Does  Mr.  Paul  Prescott  live  here  ?  "  inquired  a  boy. 

**  Yes.     Do  you  want  to  see  him  ?  " 

**  Here  is  a  letter  for  him.     There  is  no  answer.** 

The  messenger  departed,  leaving  the  letter  in  Mr.  Came- 
eron's  hand. 

Somewhat  surprised,  he  returned  to  the  sitting-room  and 
handed  it  to  Paul. 

Paul  opened  it  hastily,  and  discovered  inclosed,  a  bank-note 
18* 


210  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

for  one  hundred  dollars.  It  was  accompanied  with  a  note  from 
his  employer,  stating  that  it  was  intended  as  a  New  Year's  gift, 
but  in  the  hurry  of  business,  hQ  had  forgotten  to  give  it  to 
him  during  the  day. 

Paul's  face  lighted  up  with  joy. 

"O,  Uncle  Hugh!"  he  exclaimed,  almost  breathless  with 
delight.  **  Don't  you  see  that  this  will  enable  me  to  pay  my 
debt  at  once  ?  " 

**  So  it  will,  Paul.     I  wish  you  joy." 

**  And  my  father's  memory  will  be  vindicated,"  said  Paul,  in 
a  tone  of  deep  satisfaction.  **  If  he  could  only  have  lived  to 
see  this  day !  " 

A  fortnight  later,  Paul  obtained  permission  from  his  employ- 
er to  be  absent  from  the  office  for  a  week.  It  was  his  purpose 
to  visit  Cedarville  and  repay  'Squire  Conant  the  debt  due  him ; 
and  then,  to  go  across  the  country  to  Wrenville,  thirty  miles 
distant,  to  see  Aunt  Lucy  Lee.  First,  however,  he  ordered  a 
new  suit  of  a  tailor,  feeling  a  desire  to  appear  to  the  best  ad- 
vantage on  his  return  to  the  scene  of  his  former  humiliation.  I 
must  not  omit  to  say  that  Paul  was  now  a  fine-looking  young 
fellow  of  nineteen,  with  a  frank,  manly  face,  that  won  favor 
wherever  he  went. 

In  due  course  of  time,  he  arrived  at  Cedarville,  and  found 
his  way  without  difficulty  to  the  house  of  'Squire  Conant. 

It  was  a  large  house,  rather  imposing  in  its  exterior,  being 
quite  the  finest  residence  in  the  village. 

Paul  went  up  the  walk,  and  rang  the  bell. 

'*  Can  I  see  'Squire  Conant?"  he  asked  of  the  servant  who 
answered  the  bell. 

**  You  '11  find  him  in  that  room,"  said  the  girl,  pointing  to  a 
door  on  the  lefl  hand  of  the  hall. 

**As  he  doesn't  know  me,  perhaps  you  had  better  go  be- 
fore." 

The  door  was  opened,  and  Paul  found  himself  In  the  presence 
of  his  father's  creditor.  'Squire  Conant  was  looking  pale  and 
thin.    He  was  just  recovering  from  a  severe  sickness. 


PAUL   PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  211 

•*  I  presume  you  don't  recognize  me,  sir,"  said  Paul. 

**  Did  I  ever  see  you  before  ?  " 

**  Yes,  sir ;  my  name  is  Paul  Prescott." 

"  Not  the  son  of  John  Prescott  ?  " 

•*  The  same,  sir.     I  believe  my  father  died  in  your  debt.** 

**  Yes.  I  lent  him  five  hundred  dollars,  which  he  never  re- 
paid." 

**  He  tried  to  do  so,  sir.  He  had  saved  up  a  hundred  and 
fiflv  dollars  towards  it,  but  sickness  came  upon  him,  and  he 
was  obliged  to  use  it." 

'Squire  Conant's  temper  had  been  subdued  by  the  long  and 
dangerous  illness  through  which  he  had  passed.  It  had  made 
him  set  a  smaller  value  on  his  earthly  possessions,  from  which 
he  might  be  separated  at  any  moment.  When  he  answered 
Paul,  it  was  in  a  manner  which  our  hero  did  not  expect. 

**  Never  mind.  I  can  afford  to  lose  it.  I  have  no  doubt  he 
did  what  he  could." 

*'But  I  have  come  to  pay  it,  sir,"  said  Paul. 

"You!"  exclaimed  'Squire  Conant,  in  the  greatest  aston- 
ishment. 

"Yes,  sir." 

*'  Where  did  you  get  the  money  ?  " 

**  I  earned  it,  sir." 

**  But  you  are  very  young.  How  could  you  have  earned  so 
much  ?  " 

Paul  frankly  told  the  story  of  his  struggles  ;  how  for  yeara 
he  had  practised  a  pinching  economy,  in  order  to  redeem  hia 
father's  memory  from  reproach. 

'Squire  Conant  listened  attentively. 

**  You  are  a  good  boy,"  he  said,  at  length.  **  Shall  you  have 
anything  left  after  paying  this  money  ?  " 

**  No,  sir;  but  I  shall  soon  earn  more." 

"Still,  you  ought  to  have  something  to  begin  the  world  with. 
You  shall  pay  me  half  the  money,  and  I  will  cancel  the  note." 

"But,  sir,— " 


212  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

**Not  a  word.  I  am  satisfied,  and  that  is  enough.  If  1 
had  n't  lent  your  father  the  money,  I  might  have  invested  it 
with  the  rest,  and  lost  all." 

'Squire  Conant  produced  the  note  from  a  little  trunk  of  pa- 
pers, and  handed  it  to  Paul,  who  paid  him  the  amount  which 
he  had  stipulated,  expressing  at  the  same  tune  his  gratitude  for 
his  unexpected  generosity. 

**  Never  mind  about  thanks,  my  boy,"  said  'Squire  Conant: 
**  I  am  afraid  I  have  loved  money  too  well  heretofore.  I  hope 
I  am  not  too  old  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf." 


XXXIV. 

HOW  PAUL  GOES  BACK  TO  WRENVILLE. 

While  'Squire  Con  ant  was  speaking,  Paul  formed  a  sudden 
resolution.  He  remembered  that  Aunt  Lucy  Lee  was  a  sister 
of  'Squire  Conant.  Perhaps,  in  his  present  frame  of  mind,  it 
might  be  possible  to  Induce  him  to  do  something  for  her. 

**  I  believe  I  am  acquainted  with  a  sister  of  yours,  'Squire 
Conant,"  he  commenced. 

**Ha! "  exclaimed  the  'Squire. 

"  Mrs.  Lucy  Lee." 

*•  Yes,"  was  the  slow  reply ;  **  she  is  my  sister.  Where  did 
you  meet  her  ?  " 

**  At  the  WrenvIUe  Poorhouse." 

**  How  long  ago?" 

"About  six  years  since." 

"Is  she  there,  still?" 

**  Yes,  sir.  Since  I  have  been  in  New  York,  I  have  heard 
from  her  frequently.  I  am  going  from  here  to  visit  her.  Have 
you  any  message,  sir  ?  I  am  sure  she  would  be  glad  to  hear 
from  you." 

'*  She  shall  hear  from  me,"  said  the  'Squire  in  a  low  voice. 
**  Sit  down,  and  I  will  write  her  a  letter  which,  I  hope,  will 
not  prove  unwelcome." 

Five  minutes  afterwards  he  handed  Paul  an  open  letter. 

**  You  may  read  it,"  he  said,  abruptly.  **  You  have  been 
a  better  friend  to  my  sister  than  I.  You  shall  witness  my  late 
r*  paration." 


21  i  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

The  letter  was  as  follows :  — 

Cedakville,  Jan.  13,  18  — . 

My  drab  Sister:  — 

I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  for  my  long  neglect.  It  Is  not 
fitting  that  while  I  am  possessed  of  abundant  means  you  should 
longer  remain  the  tenant  of  an  almshouse.  I  send  you  by  the 
bearer  of  this  note,  Paul  Prescott,  who,  I  understand,  is  a  friend 
of  yours,  the  sum  of  three  hundred  dollars.  The  same  sum  will 
be  sent  you  annually.  I  hope  it  will  be  sufficient  to  maintain 
you  comfortably.  I  shall  endeavor  to  call  upon  you  soon,  and 
meanwhile  remain, 

Your  affectionate  brother, 

EZEKTEL  CONANT. 

Paul  read  this  letter  with  grateful  joy.  It  seemed  almost  too 
good  to  be  true.  Aunt  Lucy  would  be  released  from  the  petty 
tyranny  of  Mrs.  Mudge's  household,  and  perhaps — he  felt 
almost  sure  —  Aunt  Hester  would  be  willing  to  receive  her  as  a 
boarder,  thus  Insuring  her  a  peaceful  and  happy  home  in  her 
declining  years. 

**  O,  sir,  said  he,  seizing  Squire  Conant's  hand,  **  you  cannot 
tell  how  happy  you  have  made  me." 

**It  is  what  I  ought  to  have  done  before.  Here  is  the 
money  referred  to  in  the  letter, — three  J»undred  dollars, — 
mind  you  don't  lose  It." 

•'  I  will  take  every  care,  sir.** 

"You  may  tell  my  sister  that  I  shall  be  happy  to  have  her 
write  me." 

**  I  will,  sir." 

Paul  left  'Squire  Conant's  house,  feeling  that  he  had  great 
cause  for  joy.  The  'Squire's  refusal  to  receive  more  than  half 
the  debt,  left  him  master  of  over  three  hundred  dollars.  But  I 
am  not  sure  whether  he  did  not  rejoice  even  more  over  the 
good  fortune  which  had  come  to  Aunt  Lucy  Lee,  whose  kind- 
ness to  him,  in  his  unfriended  boyhood,  he  wo  aid  ever  hold  in 


PAUL   PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  215 

grateful  remembrance.  He  enjoyed  in  anticipation  the  joy 
which  he  knew  Aunt  Lucy  would  feel  when  the  change  in  her 
fortunes  was  communicated  to  her.  He  knew  also  how  great 
would  be  the  chagrin  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mudge,  when  they  found 
that  the  meek  old  lady  whom  they  hated  was  about  to  be 
rescued  from  their  clutches.  On  the  whole,  Paul  felt  that  this 
was  the  happiest  day  of  his  life.  It  was  a  satisfaction  to  feel 
that  the  good  fortune  of  his  early  friend  was  all  due  to  his  own 
intercession. 

He  was  able  to  take  the  cars  to  a  point  four  miles  distant 
from  Wrenville.  On  getting  out  on  the  platform  he  inquired 
whether  there  was  a  livery  stable  near  by.  He  was  directed 
to  one  but  a  few  rods  distant.  Entering  he  asked,  **  Can  you 
let  me  have  a  horse  and  chaise  to  go  to  Wrenville  ?  ^ 

*' Yes,  sir,"  said  the  groom. 

*•  Let  me  have  the  best  horse  in  the  stable,"  said  Paul,  **  and 
charge  me  accordingly." 

**  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  groom,  respectfully,  judging  from  Paul's 
dress  and  tone  that  he  was  a  young  gentleman  of  fortune. 

A  spirited  animal  was  brought  out,  and  Paul  was  soon  seated 
in  the  chaise  driving  along  the  Wrenville  road.  Paul's  city 
friends  would  hardly  have  recognized  their  economical  ac- 
quaintance in  the  well-dressed  young  man  who  now  sat  behind 
a  fast  horse,  putting  him  through  his  best  paces.  It  might 
have  been  a  weakness  in  Paul,  but  he  remembered  the  manner 
in  which  he  left  Wrenville,  an  unfriended  boy,  compelled  to 
liy  from  persecution  under  the  cover  of  darkness,  and  he  felt 
a  certain  pride  in  showing  the  Mudges  that  his  circumstances 
were  now  entirely  changed.  It  was  over  this  very  road  that  he 
had  walked  with  his  little  bundle,  in  the  early  morning,  six 
years  before.     It  seemed  to  him  almost  like  a  dream. 

At  length  he  reached  Wrenville.  Though  he  had  not  been 
there  for  six  years,  he  recognized  the  places  that  had  once  been 
familiar  to  him.  But  everything  seemed  to  have  dwindled. 
Accustomed  to  large  city  warehouses,  the  houses  in  the  village 


216  PAUL  pbescx)tt's  charge. 

seemed  very  diminutive.  Even  'Squire  Benjamin  Newcome's 
house,  which  he  had  once  regarded  as  a  stately  mansion,  now 
looked  like  a  very  ordinary  dwelling. 

As  he  rode  up  the  main  street  of  the  village,  many  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  him  and  his  carriage,  but  no  one  thought  of  recog- 
nizing, in  the  well-dressed  youth,  the  boy  who  had  run  away 
from  the  Wrenville  Poorhouse. 


XXXV. 

CONCLUSION. 

At  the  very  moment  that  Paul  was  driving  tlirough  the  vil- 
lage street,  Mr.  Nicholas  Mudge  entered  the  Poorhouse  in 
high  spirits.  Certainly  ill-fortune  must  have  befallen  some  one 
to  make  the  good  man  so  exhilarant. 

To  explain,  Mr.  Mudge  had  just  been  to  the  village  store  to 
purchase  some  groceries.  One  of  his  parcels  was  tied  up  in  a 
stray  leaf  of  a  recent  New  York  daily,  in  which  he  discovered 
an  item  which  he  felt  sure  would  make  Aunt  Lucy  unhappy. 
He  communicated  it  to  Mrs.  Mudge,  who  highly  approved  his 
design.     She  called  the  old  lady  from  the  common  room. 

**  Here,  Aunt  Lucy,"  said  she,  *'  is  something  that  will  in- 
terest you.*' 

Aunt  Lucy  came  in,  wondering  a  little  at  such  an  unusual 
mark  of  attention. 

Mrs.  Mudge  immediately  commenced  reading  with  malicious 
emphasis  a  paragraph  concerning  a  certain  Paul  Prescott,  who 
had  been  arrested  for  thieving,  and  sentenced  to  the  House  of 
Reformation  for  a  term  of  months. 

"  There,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  triumphantly,  **  what  do  you  say 
to  your  favorite  now  ?  Turned  out  well,  has  n't  he  ?  Did  n't 
I  always  say  so  ?  I  always  knew  that  boy  was  bad  at  heart, 
and  that  he  'd  come  to  a  bad  end." 

**  I  don't  believe  it's  the  same  boy,"  declared  Aunt  Lucy, 
who  was  nevertheless  unpleasantly  aflfected  by  the  paragraph. 

19 


218  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

She  thought  it  posssible  that  Paul  might  have  yielded  to  a 
powerful  temptation. 

**  Perhaps  you  think  I've  been  making  it  up.  If  you  don't 
believe  it  look  at  the  paper  for  yourself,"  thrusting  it  into  Aunt 
Lucy's  hands. 

**  Yes,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  I  see  that  the  name  is  the  same ; 
but,  for  all  that,  there  is  a  mistake  somewhere.  I  do  not  be- 
lieve it  is  the  same  boy." 

**  You  don't.**  Just  as  if  there  would  be  more  than  one  boy 
of  that  name.  There  may  be  other  Prescotts,  but  there  isn't 
but  one  Paul  Prescott,  take  my  word  for  it." 

**  If  it  is  he,"  said  Aunt  Lucy,  indignantly,  "is  it  Christian- 
like to  rejoice  over  the  poor  boy's  misfortune  ?  " 

** Misfortune!"  retorted  Mrs.  Mudge  with  a  sneer;  "you 
call  it  a  misfortune  to  steal,  then  !    I  call  it  a  crime." 

"It's  often  misfortune  that  drives  people  to  it,  though,"  con- 
tinued the  old  lady,  looking  keenly  at  IVIrs.  Mudge.  *'  I  have 
fcno^vn  cases  where  they  did  n't  have  that  excuse." 

Mrs.  Mudge  colored. 

"  Go  back  to  your  room,"  said  she,  sharply;  "and  don't 
stay  here  accusing  me  and  Mr.  Mudge  of  unchristian  conduct. 
You  're  the  most  troublesome  pauper  we  have  on  our  hands  ; 
and  I  do  wish  the  town  would  provide  for  you  somewhere 
else." 

**  So  do  I,"  sighed  the  old  lady  to  herself,  though  she  did 
not  think  fit  to  give  audible  voice  to  her  thoughts. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Paul  halted  his  chaise  at  the  gate, 
and  lightly  jumping  out,  fastened  his  horse  to  a  tree^  and 
walked  up  to  the  front  door. 

*  Who  can  it  be?"  thought  Mrs.  Mudge,  hastily  adjusting 
her  cap,  and  taking  off  her  apron. 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  said  Mr.  Mudge,  unsuspiciously: 

"  I  declare  !  I  look  like  a  fright." 

**  No  worse  than  usual,"  said  her  husband,  gallantly. 

By  this  time  Paul  had  knocked. 


PAUL   PRESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  219 

**  Good-morning,  sir,  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  deferentially,  her 
respect  excited  by  Paul's  dress  and  handsome  chaise. 

"Is  Mrs.  Lee  in?"  inquired  Paul,  not  caring  to  declare 
himself,  yet,  to  his  old  enemy. 

**  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Mudge,  obsequiously,  though  not  over 
pleased  to  find  that  this  was  Aunt  Lucy's  visitor;  **  would  you 
like  to  see  her  ?  " 

**  If  you  please." 

**  What  can  he  want  of  the  old  lady  ?  "  thought  Mrs.  Mudge, 
as  she  went  to  summon  her. 

**A  visitor  for  me?"  asked  Aunt  Lucy,  looking  at  Mrs. 
Mudge  somewhat  suspiciously. 

**Yes;  and  as  he's  come  in  a  carriage,  you'd  better  slick 
up  a  little  ;  put  on  a  clean  cap  or  something." 

Aunt  Lucy  was  soon  ready. 

She  looked  wonderingly  at  Paul,  not  recognizing  him. 

•*  You  are  not  very  good  at  remembering  your  old  friends," 
said  Paul,  with  a  smile. 

**  What!"  exclaimed  Aunt  Lucy,  her  face  lighting  up  with 
joy ;  •*  are  you  little  Paul  ?  " 

*'  Not  very  little,  now,"  said  our  hero,  laughing ;  "  but  I  'm 
the  same  Paul  you  used  to  know." 

Mrs.  Mudge,  who  through  the  half  open  door  had  heard  this 
revelation,  was  overwhelmed  with  astonishment  and  confusion. 
She  hurried  to  her  husband. 

"Wonders  will  never  cease!"  she  exclaimed,  holding  up 
both  hands.  *'  If  that  doesn't  turn  out  to  be  Paul  Prescott. 
Of  course  he 's  up  in  the  world,  or  he  would  n't  dress  so  well, 
and  ride  In  such  a  handsome  carriage." 

*'  You  don't  say  so  !"  returned  Mr.  Mudge,  who  looked  as  if 
he  had  heard  of  a  heavy  misfortune. 

"  Yes,  I  do  ;  I  heard  him  say  so  with  his  own  lips.  It's  a 
pity  you  showed  that  paragraph  to  Aunt  Lucy,  this  morning.'* 

••  That  you  showed  you  mean,"  retorted  her  husband. 

**  No,  I  don't.     You  know  it  was  you  that  did  it." 


220  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

"  Hush ;  they  '11  hear." 

Meanwhile  the  two  friends  were  conversing  together  hap- 
pily. 

"I'm  so  glad  you're  doing  so  well,  Paul,"  said  Aunt  Lucy. 
*•  It  was  a  lucky  day  when  you  left  the  Poorhouse  behind 
you." 

«'  Yes,  Aunt  Lucy,  and  to-day  is  a  lucky  day  for  you. 
There 's  room  for  two  in  that  chaise,  and  I  'm  going  to  take 
you  away  with  me." 

*'  I  should  enjoy  a  ride,  Paul.  It's  a  long  time  since  I  have 
taken  one." 

•'  You  don't  understand  me.  You  're  going  away  not  to  re- 
turn." 

The  old  lady  smiled  sadly. 

"  No,  no,  Paul.  I  can't  consent  to  become  a  burden  upon 
your  generosity.     You  can't  afford  it,  and  it  will  not  be  right." 

**  O,"  said  Paul,  smiling,  "  you  give  me  credit  for  too  much, 
I  mean  that  you  shall  pay  your  board." 

**  But  you  know  I  have  no  money." 

*•  No,  I  don't.  I  don't  consider  that  a  lady  is  penniless,  who 
has  an  income  of  three  hundred  dollars  a  year." 

**  I  don't  understand  you,  Paul." 

•*  Then,  perhaps  you  will  understand  this,"  said  our  hero, 
enjoying  the  old  lady's  astonishment. 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  roll  of  bills,  and  passed  them  to 
Aunt  Lucy. 

The  old  lady  looked  so  bewildered,  that  he  lost  no  time  in 
explaining  the  matter  to  her.  Then,  indeed.  Aunt  Lucy  was 
happy ;  not  only  because  she  had  become  suddenly  independ- 
ent, but,  because  after  years  of  coldness  and  estrangement, 
her  brother  had  at  last  become  reconciled  to  her. 

**  Now  Aunt  Lucy,"  resumed  Paul,  *'  I'll  tell  you  what  my 
plans  are.  You  shall  get  into  the  chaise  with  me,  and  go  at 
once  to  New  York.  I  think  Aunt  Hester  will  be  willing  to 
receive  you  as  a  boarder ;  if  not,  I  will  find  you  a  ploasant 
place  near  by.     Will  that  suit  you  ?  " 


PAUL   PKESCOTT'S   CHARGE.  221 

**It  will  make  me  very  bappy;  but  I  cannot  reabze  it.  It 
seems  like  a  dream." 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Mudge  entered  the  room,  and,  after  a 
moment's  scrutiny,  pretended  to  recognize  Paul.  Her  husband 
followed  close  behind  her. 

*'  Can  I  believe  my  eyes  ?  "  she  exclaimed.  **  Is  this  indeed 
Paul  Prescott  ?    I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  back." 

**  Only  on  a  visit,  Mrs.  Mudge,"  said  Paul,  smiling. 

**  You  '11  stop  to  dinner,  I  hope  ?  " 

Paul  thought  of  the  soup  and  dry  bread  which  he  used  to 
find  so  uninviting,  and  said  that  he  should  not  have  time  to  do  so. 

"We've  thought  of  you  often,"  said  Mr.  Mudge,  wrlthlno- 
his  harsh  features  Into  a  smile.  "  There's  scarcely  a  day  that 
we  haven't  spoken  of  you." 

*♦  I  ought  to  feel  grateful  for  your  remembrance,"  said  Paul, 
his  eyes  twinkling  with  mirth.  *'But  I  don't  think,  Mr.  Mudo-e, 
you  always  thought  so  much  of  me." 

Mr.  Mudge  coughed  In  some  embarrassment,  and  not  think- 
ing of  anything  in  particular  to  say,  said  nothing. 

**I  am  going  to  take  from  you  another  of  your  boarders," 
said  Paul.     "  Can  you  spare  Aunt  Lucy  .^  " 

"  For  how  long  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Mudge. 

"  For  all  the  time.  She  has  just  come  into  possession  of  a 
Kttle  property,  —  several  hundred  dollars  a  year,  —  and  I  have 
persuaded  her  to  go  to  New  York  to  board." 

**  Is  this  true  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Mudge  in  astonishment. 

**  Yes,"  said  the  old  lady,  **  God  has  been  bountiful  to  me 
when  I  least  expected  it." 

**  Can  I  be  of  any  se/vlce  in  assisting  you  to  pack  up,  Mrs. 
Lee?"  asked  Mrs.  Mudge,  with  new-born  politeness.  She 
felt  that  as  a  lady  of  property.  Aunt  Lucy  was  entitled  to  much 
greater  respect  and  deference  than  before. 

"  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Mudge,"  said  Paul,  answering  for  her. 
••  She  won't  have  occasion  for  anything  in  this  house.  She 
will  get  a  supply  of  new  things  when  she  gets  to  Ne  w  York.'* 

19* 


222  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

The  old  lady  looked  very  happy,  and  Mrs.  Mudge,  in  spite 
of  her  outward  deference,  felt  thoroughly  provoked  at  her 
good  fortune. 

I  will  not  dwell  upon  the  journey  to  New  York.  Aunt  Lucy, 
though  somewhat  fatigued,  bore  it  much  better  than  she  had 
anticipated.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cameron  entered  very  heartily  into 
Paul's  plans,  and  readily  agreed  to  receive  Aunt  Lucy  as  an 
inmate  of  their  happy  and  united  household.  The  old  lady  felt 
it  to  be  a  happy  and  blessed  change  from  the  Poorhouse,  where 
scanty  food  and  poor  accommodations  had  been  made  harder 
to  bear  by  the  ill  temper  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mudge,  to  a  home 
whose  atmosphere  was  peace  and  kindness. 


And  now,  dear  reader,  it  behooves  us  to  draw  together  the 
different  threads  of  our  story,  and  bring  all  to  a  satisfactory 
conclusion. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mudge  are  no  longer  in  charge  of  the  Wren- 
ville  Poorhouse.  Afler  Aunt  Lucy's  departure,  Mrs.  Mudge 
became  so  morose  and  despotic,  that  her  rule  became  intoler- 
able. Loud  complaints  came  to  the  ears  of  'Squire  Newcome, 
Chairman  of  the  Overseers  of  the  Poor.  One  fine  morning 
he  was  compelled  to  ride  over  and  give  the  interesting  couple 
warning  to  leave  immejiately .  Mr.  Mudge  undertook  the 
charge  of  a  farm,  but  his  habits  of  intoxication  increased  upon 
him  to  such  an  extent,  that  he  was  found  dead  one  winter 
night,  in  a  snowdrift,  between  his  own  house  and  the  tavern. 
Mrs.  Mudge  was  not  extravagant  in  her  expressions  of  grief, 
not  having  a  very  strong  affection  for  her  husband.  At  last  ac- 
counts, she  was  keeping  a  boarding-house  in  a  manufacturing 
town.  Some  time  since,  her  boarders  held  an  indignation 
meeting,  and  threatened  to  leave  in  a  body  unless  she  improved 
her  fare,  —  a  course  to  which  she  was  obliged  to  submit. 
George  Dawkins,  unable  to  obtain  a  reconmiendation  from 


PAUL    PRESCOTT's    CHARGE.  223 

Mr.  Danforth,  did  not  succeed  in  securing  another  place  in 
New  York.  He  finally  prevailed  upon  his  father  to  advance 
him  a  sum  of  money,  with  which  he  went  out  to  California. 
Let  us  hope  that  he  may  *'  turn  over  a  new  leaf"  there,  and 
establish  a  better  reputation  than  he  did  in  New  'York. 

Mr.  Stubbs  is  still  in  the  tin  business.  He  is  as  happy  as 
the  day  is  long,  and  so  are  his  wife  and  children.  Once  a  yeai 
he  comes  to  New  York  and  pays  Paul  a  visit.  This  supplies 
him  with  something  to  talk  about  for  the  rest  of  the  year.  He 
is  frugal  in  his  expenses,  and  is  able  to  lay  up  a  couple  of  hun- 
dred dollars  every  year,  which  he  confides  to  Paul,  in  whose 
financial  skill  he  has  the  utmost  confidence. 

I  am  sure  my  boy  readers  would  not  forgive  me  for  omitting 
to  tell  them  something  more  about  Ben  Newcome.  Although 
his  mirthful  spirit  sometimes  led  him  into  mischief,  he  was 
good  hearted ;  and  I  have  known  him  do  many  an  act  of  kind- 
ness, even  at  considerable  trouble  to  himself.  It  will  be  re- 
membered that  in  consequence  of  his  night  adventure,  during 
which  he  personated  a  ghost,  much  to  the  terror  of  Mr.  Mudge, 
his  father  determined  to  send  him  to  a  military  school  This 
proved  to  be  a  wise  arrangement.  The  discipline  was  such  as 
Ben  needed,  and  he  soon  distinguished  himself  by  his  excel- 
lence in  the  military  drill.  Soon  after  he  graduated,  the  Re- 
bellion broke  out,  and  Ben  was  at  once,  in  spite  of  his  youth, 
elected  Captain  of  the  Wrenville  company.  At  the  battle  of 
Antietam  he  acquitted  himself  with  so  much  credit  that  he  was 
promoted  to  a  major.  He  was  again  promoted,  and  when 
llichmond  was  evacuated,  he  was  one  of  the  first  officers  to  en- 
ter the  streets  of  the  Rebel  capital,  a  Colonel  in  command  of 
his  regiment.  I  have  heard  on  high  authority,  that  he  is  con- 
sidered one  of  the  best  officers  in  the  service. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cameron  are  still  living.  They  are  happy  iu 
the  success  and  increas'ng  business  prosperity  of  Paul,  whom 
they  regard  as  a  son.  Between  them  and  Aunt  Lucy  he 
would  stand  a  very  fair  chance  of  being  spoiled,  if  his  own  good 


224  PAUL  prescott's  charge. 

sense  and  good  judgment  were  not  sufficient  to  sai*'  tLs.  iiju 
such  a  misfortune.  Paul  is  now  admitted  to  a  small  j  atcr  jst  in 
the  firm,  which  entitles  him  to  a  share  in  the  profits.  Ai  Dan- 
forth  &  Co.  have  done  a  very  extensive  business  of  late  years, 
this  interest  brings  him  in  a  very  handsome  income.  There  is 
only  one  cause  of  difference  between  him  and  the  sexton.  He 
insists  that  Uncle  Hugh,  who  is  getting  infirm,  should  resign 
his  office,  as  he  is  abundantly  able  to  support  the  whole 
family.  But  the  good  sexton  loves  his  duties,  and  will  continue 
to  discharge  them  as  long  as  he  is  able. 

And  now  we  must  bid  farewell  to  Paul.  He  has  battled 
bravely  with  the  difficulties  and  discouragements  that  beset 
him  in  early  life,  he  has  been  faithful  to  the  charge  which 
he  voluntarily  assumed,  and  his  father's  memory  is  free  from 
reproach.  He  often  wishes  that  his  father  could  have  lived  to 
witness  his  prosperity,  but  God  has  decreed  it  otherwise. 
Happy  in  the  love  of  friends,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  all  that 
can  make  life  desirable,  so  far  as  external  circumstances  have 
that  power,  let  us  all  wish  him  God  speed ! 


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